


You're my first and my last love

by DaydreamInColor (redlipsredledger), redlipsredledger



Series: She's the heart that I wanted bad [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Awesome Carol Danvers, Awesome Clint Barton, Big Sister Natasha Romanov, Bobbi Morse & Clint Barton friendship, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Clint Barton/Jessica Drew (Past) - Freeform, Clint thought she was dead, Clintasha - Freeform, Deaf Clint Barton, Entirely AU, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Freeform, Friendship/Love, Healing Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Jessica forgives Clint, Love Confessions, Love Triangles, Missions Gone Wrong, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha has to face what she's done though, Natasha hates the infirmary, Okay fine they hook up, Past Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Past Clint Barton/Bobbi Morse, Protective Clint Barton, Protective Steve Rogers, SHIELD lies, Secret Relationship, Strike Team Delta, Unrequited Love, carol danvers is a good friend, life after death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-01-23 14:36:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 40,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21321796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redlipsredledger/pseuds/DaydreamInColor, https://archiveofourown.org/users/redlipsredledger/pseuds/redlipsredledger
Summary: Clint Barton thinks Natasha Romanov is dead, so when he's sent in as her extraction team she's left to face her lies and she wonders how the hell she's ever going to make it right or even if she can, but Clint being Clint insists on protecting her anyway.A part of her wants her to hate him, a part of her is glad he still loves her.And a part of her wishes that he never did.But even she knows his love for her - and hers for him - will be put to the ultimate test when Natasha has to confront a figure from her past and save a young girl and herself in the process.Life is never simple for Natasha Romanov.
Relationships: Carol Danvers/Jessica Drew, Clint Barton/Bobbi Morse, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov (past), Lance Hunter/Bobbi Morse, Luke Cage/Jessica Jones
Series: She's the heart that I wanted bad [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1538143
Comments: 28
Kudos: 21





	1. You're my best friend

As a spy, Assassin, Field Agent, Avenger... Well, you get the picture, in this line of work it was hard to forget how a bullet slid through your body like a hot knife through butter or the burn as it passed through that felt like you were on fire.

It was hard to forget the way that your blood felt hot and thick as it ran down your body; she lifted her gun and she fired clean through the head of her would-be assassin and then she went down.

Down and down hard.

She hit the ground with enough force to knock the wind out of her already fragile, tired body. Even with her enhancements, she wouldn't heal from this without some serious help if they even got to her in time. This was supposed to be someone else's job but the idiot got themselves killed. Just her luck.

Natasha Romanov laid on the ground looking up at the stars and she could feel it: She was bleeding out and fast. They say it's rarely the wounds that kill you, it's blood loss and she'd always found that to be a rather poor joke; she laughed at it now though. As weak as she was, she laughed at it. She was glad she'd gotten a shot off before she went down though. No one would have the chance to finish the job now, she'd do that all on her own.

She heard the comms piece in her ear buzz, she heard the frantic tone of the person on the other side asking her over and over again to report in and Natasha managed to get two words out: _I'm down._

She could hear the bustle in the background on the comms then, everyone shouting and Maria Hill ordering them to find an evac for her and fast; she'd be lucky if they had anyone in the area that would get here before she'd bled out. It wasn't the first time she'd been in a mess like this but usually she had someone with her. Usually, she was smarter, faster. She'd taken this on when even she knew she shouldn't have.

She was exhausted from the months she'd spent wiping out the bastards that had tried to kill her and now she laid here facing death anyway; it was a bitter sort of irony. 

She closed her eyes, wishing that she could tell Maria to shut the hell up and stop shouting. She wished she could tell her that she had a headache and she didn't need to hear her ordering agents around when she knew it was probably goddamn futile.

_Just let me die in peace._

But death - it seemed - would be postponed, at least this time. Natasha had died before.

Died, been cloned, manipulated, used, brainwashed, held captive, tortured....

Well, that and far more; she'd far from had an easy go of it.

Breathing felt like fire in her lungs and she coughed. She wished she had the strength to stand or even sit up but she didn't. The metallic taste of blood and smoke hit her tongue and her face contorted. How pleasant.

She heard it before she saw it; she thought it was a hallucination if she was going to be honest until she heard the boots hit the ground next to her and someone crouch down beside her.

She watched the disbelief in his face, the mixture of anger, pain, confusion and downright agony in his face and she felt _terrible_ for being the cause of it; she'd never intended to hurt Clint Barton. Never in all her years of knowing him had she intended on causing him the kind of pain she knew this would.

She knew Clint, he wouldn't react here. Not here. Later, when he was alone he'd let it show and he'd let it all out in whatever way he could but not here. Never here. Never out in the field where he had a job to do and never while she was at risk of dying.

He hoisted her carefully up in his arms and she could read his face like a book; there was so much he wanted to say to her and so many questions he wanted to ask her but he remained stoic. 

"You're gonna be alright, Tasha." He spoke quietly.

She wished that she believed him. None of this was alright. She'd done the unthinkable but she didn't have the strength to face that now because her fleeting consciousness gave way fast.

Blood loss was brutal.

********

A week give or take.

She'd been unconscious for a week; she woke slowly, the blinding lights overhead made her throw her hands over her eyes or at least try to. She felt the tug of the needle in her hand forbidding her from moving it that far and she yanked it out, the next thing to go was the tube attached to her nose and then the monitors on her chest; every machine in the room started to scream and a nurse ran in, stopping abruptly at the door as her eyes fell on the rather pissed off Russian that fought to sit up.

She was almost glad when Clint slipped around the nurse and told her to leave.

Almost.

He walked in slowly, almost painfully slow before he sat in the chair beside her bed and Natasha cast her eyes down to her lap.

"I thought you were dead, Natasha. I went to your _funeral_."

"I know. I'm sorry. I had no choice." She spoke quietly.

"Bullshit you had no choice! You let me think you were dead." 

She could tell he was trying to curb his anger and she wished he wouldn't. She deserved every ounce of it and she felt almost sorry for anyone who had come across him in the last week. He'd probably tore their heads off.

"I had to. I had to let everyone think I was dead so I could go after the bastard that tried to put a bullet in my head. He thought he was untouchable because he was protected by the Russians, he was wrong. So goddamn wrong." 

It didn't excuse what she'd done but, it did - hopefully - explain it. She'd been sold out. Someone had sold her out for a goddamn price on her head that was placed years ago. Over a decade, in fact. She hated those soldiers for hire types; if he put a bullet in her brain she knew that she'd be taken back to the Russians and they'd just wind up sending one of their little clones in her place and they'd tear apart her life and kill everyone she cared about.

She knew they would. The last time they'd gotten their hands on her they'd told her they would.

They told her they'd make sure she couldn't protect them and they'd all die thinking it was at her hands. She couldn't allow that to happen. 

"I knew what'd happen to everyone I care about if I didn't stop him; he'd come after me again and this time he might have succeeded. I did what I did so he'd think he'd done the job but I made sure he couldn't get his hands on what he really wanted: My body. If I was dead, they'd kill you all. They'd kill you and they'd make you think it was me doing it."

She knew he'd know what she meant. She cast her eyes up to look at him. It didn't excuse what she'd done but she hoped it'd explain it, or at least some of it.

"I'm not saying it makes it right. I know it doesn't make it right. I'm just telling you that I did what I did for a reason; I didn't want to hurt you or anyone else, Clint. I really didn't. I had to do what I did so that it'd stop, even just for a little while. Even just for long enough for me to work out how to stop them for good."

He knew how badly she wanted to do that. She'd wanted to do that all along and she'd told him that. She'd told him that when he'd talked her into defecting because she knew that they'd never stop. They'd never stop until someone made them but they were so far spread and there was so many of them now that it was hard to make sure they were all gone; it sounded like an impossible task but she'd never stop trying. 

"Do you know how many of us cried for you? How many of us sat there wondering if we could've done more and hating ourselves for not being able to protect you?"

He spoke quietly, he sounded utterly and completely devastated and she hated herself for it. Natasha was usually stronger than this, but then she'd never faced her best friend after faking her death before when he _wasn't _in on the plan. If he was, he'd have insisted on coming with her and she couldn't allow that. Hell, this time around she wouldn't even let James come with her.

"You did nearly die for real this time. You lost a lot of blood and you did nearly die. I nearly lost you again."

"That wasn't the same thing-- I took a mission for SHIELD on my way back because it was supposed to be quick. Kill a bunch of mercs and stop them running guns, turns out there was more of them than the intel suggested so I found myself in a jam. They were dead but they got some damn good shots off in the process."

She could still feel her body healing from it. It'd take time, but she'd be good as new soon enough. 

"None of that makes what you did right, Natasha!" There it was. The Anger.

The anger she wished that he'd just let out because she could tell he needed to. Bottling it up would do him no good; she'd seen what happened to Clint Barton when he bottled up how he felt and that led nowhere good.

"Good. Be angry at me. Hate me if that's what you need to do. Don't you sit there and make out like I didn't feel what I did though. I did. Every goddamn day I felt what I did tenfold and I wish I could have told you the truth. I had no idea how - if it was even possible - I could come back."

Maybe she should have made the decision to turn that mission down and just stay gone.

Go freelance again. Just be anywhere but here.

"I can't hate you!" He snapped back.

"I love you too much to hate you." This time it was him that looked away.

"I don't want you to love me."

"You never did but I don't have a choice. I never had a choice, then or now I don't have a goddamn choice, Natasha." 

Not that he'd choose differently even if he could. He wouldn't choose not to love her. He wouldn't choose not to care for her because he'd have a goddamn empty life if he did that.

"I need to get out of here I need to--" She pushed herself, she pushed herself to move and to stand.

She wasn't ready, she climbed out of bed but she wasn't ready yet. Her legs gave out from under her and she almost fell to her knees until he reached out to support her. She glanced at him as he held her, determined not to let her fall to the floor and determined not to let her feel alone even though she probably deserved to feel exactly that.

"Clint, please. Get me out of here." He knew how much she hated the infirmary.

It was why she usually turned to him when she was in need of patching up but this time, that hadn't been an option. She'd been close to death. 

"And let you go where? You wanna go back to your place and risk making yourself worse? Having no one around you to help you?"

"I don't need help." This time, she snapped.

"The hell you don't. If you're getting out of here I'm not leaving you on your own, that's the deal: Take it or leave it."

He was so goddamn stubborn, she narrowed her eyes at him as he helped her sit down again.

"Fine, fine. What do you suggest?"

"Come stay with me." He sounded so resolute.

She knew that it was just that he didn't want her running off again. She knew that it was just that he didn't want to risk losing her for good this time.

"Clint, I can't do that." She replied almost immediately.

"Then I'm gonna come stay with you. I'm not leaving you. That's not an option."

Goddammit. Damn him and his stupidly stubborn nature.

"Fine. I'll stay with you."

"Good. I'll take the couch and you'll take it easy until you're better." He sounded like such a mother hen.

She hated it when anyone wanted to take care of her. She hated it when anyone wanted to protect her because she didn't _need _it. In her eyes, she'd never need it whether or not it was obvious that she did.

"I'll get your clothes and your things." He smiled.

He looked triumphant and she hated it. She narrowed her eyes. She was too weak to argue with him and she was too weak to lie and say that she could handle it alone right now when they both knew that it wasn't true. She needed the help but she'd never submit to it easily, that wasn't in her nature. Natasha Romanov was always determined to save herself, so much so that she never accepted she needed anyone else to save her.

Even when it was obvious she did.


	2. I hope I never lose the bruises that you left behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intent on leaving and going back to her own place to finish out her recovery, Natasha tries her best to push Clint away in true Natasha style but when she faces his heartbreak, she's forced to confront her own truth.

He literally insisted she rest.

Literally.

It was driving her insane if she was going to be honest; it had been three days. She'd healed from a lot of her minor injuries but the hole in her side was taking longer and she kept needing to change the dressings. He kept telling her every time she tried to do anything that she was going to wind up ripping her stitches and she couldn't count the amount of times she'd told him if she didn't stop fussing over her she'd make sure he _needed _stitches.

A comment met with a smirk and a daring look from Clint.

He'd told her a number of times that it didn't matter how many times she argued with him it didn't matter; she was going to rest and she was going to get better and she wasn't going to go off galavanting again and putting herself in danger.

And she definitely wasn't going to fake her death again. 

He'd made her swear that.

Clint Barton was stubborn; he was stubborn and argumentative and still mad at her, she could tell. She could tell that he was still struggling to understand why she'd done what she'd done and he was fighting like hell to stop himself from letting it show. She could understand it; she'd have been the same if it were him. Over the years, they'd both had lives and loves of their own, they'd moved on and he'd gotten married and she'd bounced back and forth with James more times than she could remember just like he had with Bobbi, but it never lasted.

None of it ever lasted; he maintained that he'd never love anyone the way that he loved her. She'd tried her damn best to tell him to move on, she'd tried her damn best to make it clear that she'd never love him the way that he loved her.

It was all lies of course. She did love him, she'd loved him all along it was why she'd defected. It was why she'd listened to him when he'd told her that she could be better if she only wanted to bad enough. She'd loved him since he asked her to marry her all those years ago and she'd turned him down.

In true Natasha style, she'd pushed him away and she'd run like hell because back then, it had been another mission, another assignment and she was not supposed to care. Caring about Clint Barton would put his life in danger. 

She could never live with herself if anything happened to him.

She glanced up at him as he brought her a cup of hot tea; she'd been curled up on the couch with Lucky for the last hour watching some random ass thing or another on the TV, she didn't give a damn about it and she'd paid absolutely no attention whatsoever to it. It was just noise to her. She placed the cup on the coffee table and offered him a thankful smile; she knew that he was just trying to make sure she was comfortable and happy. 

Clint, Clint had always done whatever it took to make her happy. He was a fool that way.

"Clint, I should go." She pressed her tongue against the inside of her cheek.

He looked almost wounded as she spoke and immediately she felt terrible for saying anything to begin with. She knew she could leave whenever she wanted to, he'd told her as much but he'd also asked her to stay in order to make sure he could take care of her because he didn't want anything to happen to her again and he didn't want her causing herself yet more injury.

Sometimes she swore he cared _too _much.

Natasha vowed she didn't care at all. She lied.

"If that's what you wanna do." He attempted to appear dismissive.

He failed. She released a sigh and shook her head at him. 

"You've spent the last three days doing nothing but making sure I don't end up hurting myself, I've spent the last seven months letting you think I was dead. I don't deserve this and you know it. I don't deserve you dropping everything to take care of me."

He let out a small laugh, humorless of course and he shook his head vehemently. 

"You think I'm standing here taking care of you because anyone _deserves _anything? This isn't about what you deserve or don't deserve. This is about me and you. This is about you being honest with me for once and not running off faking your death and letting me live wondering how the hell I could have saved you. This is about me being scared as hell that I'm gonna wake up someday and you really are gonna be dead."

"You died on me too, remember?"

That whole mess with Wanda. He'd tried his best to bury that memory. 

"And I came back! I didn't let you live thinking you'd lost me or you'd failed to protect me, Tasha. You think it was easy to let me live with this? You think it was easy for me to look at your coffin and wonder how the hell I could've saved you if I was there? I'm your partner, your best friend. I'm supposed to keep you safe."

The pain and agony in his voice was enough to have Natasha look down, she couldn't stand to meet his gaze now. How could she? She knew everything he was saying was true; she hadn't earned a goddamn thing, she knew he was doing this because he loved her. He wasn't going to say it because he feared the rejection he'd faced so many times over the years.

"Natasha, I hated the thought that I'd have to live without you." He crouched down in front of her.

He placed his hands on her knees before one hand moved to her chin and brushed his thumb along it.

"Look at me, Tasha." He asked softly.

"I've spent years wondering how the hell I'm supposed to live without you."

She knew. She knew he had, she'd tried her best to act like it didn't matter to her but the truth was it always had. The truth was _she _always cared. The truth was it had always mattered to her she just didn't know how to say it.

"You said you didn't wanna marry me and I respect that. You said you didn't wanna be with me and I accept that but I can't accept a life where you aren't there somehow or another." He loved her enough that he'd bury it if it meant keeping her in his life.

What had she ever done to deserve such devotion?

"You were wrong about me." She spoke as she looked up.

"You always thought I didn't care and that's why I left. I left because I couldn't stand the thought of your life being in danger because of what I felt for you. They'd have killed you just to keep me in line and I couldn't live with that. I wanted to accept when you asked me to marry you. I wanted to stay. I wanted to stay but I never could."

It hadn't been easy for her all these years either.

"Then why can't you stay now? You think I care about facing whatever hell is out there? I've faced worse. I've faced worse than anything anyone can throw at me now."

She shook her head though. He was a fool to think it. She released a sigh. Why wouldn't he get it through his thick skull that loving her was danger? It was danger to him just as it had been danger to James. 

James was a super soldier, Clint was a regular guy.

"I don't give a damn about danger, Natasha. I never gave a damn about danger."

"But I care about you too much to risk losing you for loving me."

So she'd break her own heart over and over again.

"Care." He repeated the word quietly.

Sadly.

She shook her head.

"You really think I don't love you, don't you?"

Of course he did. She'd done such a good job at convincing him she hadn't and that she didn't now. Hook ups, bouncing back to one another when life got too much for comfort and familiarity, did he really think that was all it was?

"You told me you didn't and I'm good with that. I have to be good with that but I don't have to stop loving you. That was never part of the deal."

"I do love you, you big idiot. I love you and that's exactly why I pushed you away; the thought of losing you is worse than any death I could endure, why won't you see that?"

She sounded hurt. She wanted to be angry, God how she wanted to be angry.

"Then stay with me. Who the hell cares what anyone says or what anything throws at us? Stay with me. We can face it all together. Don't run, not again."

_Don't run, not again._

Oh, if only it were that simple.


	3. There you go again making me love you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh... So... Semi-plot semi comfort sex. I don't think I'm gonna do spectacular here but its needed for plot reasons.
> 
> \-------
> 
> An injured Natasha seeks comfort and maybe something else. She isn't used to any of this and he scares the hell out of her. When she realises she's running out of excuses and places to hide, she tries her best to stop herself running again.
> 
> (I apologise for any typos I'm writing this presently on a tablet that is slow, often unresponsive and has an irritating fondness for changing my words haha I will fix them though if there are any, also I'm dyslexic so)

She glared at Clint Barton. Sitting on the edge of his couch - literally - she was forced to face him because the son of a bitch wouldn't leave her alone with her thoughts; she figured he was afraid that she'd push him away again. He was right, she would.

Natasha didn't do well with others. She had isolated herself for a good goddamn reason over the years; James was different. He was just as angry and he was filled with as much hatred and danger as she was. He didn't care if she was a killer.

He didn't care if she did what she had to do. Clint did.

Clint wanted her to be better. He kept telling her that she didn't have to choose that anymore but even he came around to the idea that some people just needed to die in some instances. Not everyone could be rehabilitated. He'd been with her when she'd faced Alexi, there was no rehabilitation for that one. Back then he'd been trying to work his shit out with Bobbi.

He hadn't managed it. Those two were just-- Well even she didn't know. It wasn't her business.

They made a good team that much was true, she hadn't minded working alongside his wife though he'd resented every single time he'd had to work with James. She'd found it slightly amusing if she was going to be honest with herself; he was jealous and it was cute. Even when he'd been with Bobbi that had been the case; she felt bad for her. 

Bobbi always knew though, she hadn't said anything; it had been a silent agreement between her and Natasha that they didn't have to discuss her and Clint. It would just make things awkward and both of them had enough problems.

She appreciated that silent agreement more than she could have begun to explain. She didn't need that.

She didn't need the reminder that she cared. Not then. 

Fuck, she didn't even need it now.

That was what she kept telling herself. Natasha sat there trying to fight the urge to knock him clean on his ass and just walk out; she could go home but what was the use? He knew, he knew the goddamn truth and she was convinced it would do her no favors. What difference did it make if he knew or not? He was just going to wind up getting messed up again and she'd be left hating herself. He deserved better.

She'd told him that a million times but the stubborn son of a bitch would have none of it. Idiot. Fucking idiot.

Fucking damn him to the depths of hell.

She'd been keeping that secret now for over a decade; she hated how he got the truth out of her even when she lied for a living. He did, too, but he was way worse at it than she was. She'd been born and bred on lies.

Well no, that wasn't true; once upon a time Natasha had been like every other girl on the planet, loving family and everything but that hadn't lasted.

Was it any wonder she pushed everyone away? Everyone she loved died.

Oh, Natasha. You're a fucking walking cliche.

She clenched her fists, she shook her head and she fought. She fought against the urge to push him away all over again and tell him that it was a mistake; he seemed to see it because he fell back. He fell back and he was sitting on his heels now and he turned sad eyes to look at her and she hated herself all over again. He raced his hand back through messy hair that never seemed to behave no matter how many times he tried. She'd always loved it. It was one of those little things that she'd always loved about him.

She noticed the little things whether or not he ever thought she did.

"I'm sorry Tasha..." He breathed out a sigh.

He was sorry. He was sorry for her screw up. Of course he was.

She squeezed her eyes closed and shook her head. She would not fucking cry. Not here. Not now.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." She whispered before she realised it was unfair.

She repeated it properly. He was wearing his hearing aids but still, it was respectful. 

"Yeah I do." He replied simply, shrugging his shoulders. 

"No, you don't. Not this time." 

She unballed her hands, reaching out for his and he looked at her dubiously.

"Trust me." She spoke softly. Carefully.

She pulled him up to his feet before she stood in front of him rising carefully of course; she didn't want him yelling at her telling her to be careful. Again. He was getting a huge pain in the ass for that; her hands dropped his and one moved to his cheek.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." He really didn't. He deserved better.

He deserved better than her. He'd always deserved better than her but he didn't see it. It had been a long time since the last time that they were this close. He reached up to trace his hand through her hair and he smiled; it was one of those gentle smiles, fond and filled with love. Love... God, what did she know about Love?

"Tasha I--" 

She cut him off, reaching up - trying not to strain her side as she did - to kiss him. 

Yep, she was aware of what a bad idea this probably was.

He pulled back when she broke the kiss and he studied her, confused and clearly wondering what was going on and she couldn't blame him. Natasha was _not _good with words. She was not good with opening herself up like that. She tried, really she did try but she always seemed to fall short.

Emotions weren't her strong suit. Running from them? Oh, she had that down to an art but facing them? Nope.

"What're you doing?" He was wary, she couldn't blame him. 

She knew she would be too if the tables were turned. He knew her well enough by now to know that she didn't handle intense situations all too well. This wasn't a mission, he wasn't her mark anymore, they were just two people who tried their damn best to be free of a past that haunted them both. Way back when, he'd wondered when it stopped being the mission if it ever did but he'd surpassed that. It had taken him a while but he had. Now, he stood face to face with her and he couldn't have been more confused if he tried.

"Will you just goddamn kiss me?" Why did he have to ask her questions?

She had even less of an idea what she was doing than he did. Her head and her heart were at war. He seemed happy to oblige even despite his dubiousness because he tugged the edge of her t-shirt and pulled her toward him, his hands on her hips as he bowed his head to capture her lips with his own and her arms slid over his shoulders. After a few moments his lips slipped along her jaw and down her neck, a small gasp escaped her lips; he knew that was a goddamn weakness of hers. Her hand tangled in his hair and she shuddered gently as he moved her hair and felt a trail of soft kisses against her shoulder.

"We can't do this here." Her hand found his.

He moved back, offering her a quizzical look as she took a half step to the side and tugged him with her.

"Are you gonna come with me or am I gonna have to do this by myself?" She smirked.

That goddamn smirk. He was convinced she knew that he found it sexy. She had to know.

Within a minute she stood at the foot if his bed and she slipped her t-shirt over her head and slid down the PJ shorts she'd been wearing, standing there in nothing but her underwear and he studied her; there was no way he'd be able to forget how beautiful she was but he found himself telling her anyway. 

She laughed softly at him, shaking her head.

"Are you gonna stand there staring all day or?" 

Apparently not.

The joggers he was wearing joined her clothing on the floor, followed by his shirt and she moved to lay down; he hovered above her his lips tracing a line of kisses along her collar bone, slipping between her breasts and down her abdomen, lips pressing against each scar she had there to the tiny birth mark she had on her left hip. Her breath hitched in her throat.

It had been a long time since someone had been this tender with her.

He tugged on the fabric of her panties and she lifted her hips slightly to allow him to slide them off, his calloused hands running up the bare skin of her thighs and he felt her skin prickle beneath his hands. She still responded to him the same way she always had, that brought a slightly cocky smirk to Clint's lips. His lips touched just above her knee and moved down in an agonizingly slow line.

"Don't do that you son of a--" She didn't get the chance to finish.

His tongue flicked over the delicate mound of her clit; Natasha moaned.

"Fuck." She uttered weakly.

The pace of his tongue increased along with the pressure, slipping from gentle to hard enough to make her squirm but he held her thighs firmly in place with his hands. The more intense the pressure got, the more urgent her moans became until he moved just a little lower, his tongue this time slipping inside of her and his thumb replacing the pressure he'd used before and the scream that broke her lips was enough to force him to bite back a response of his own. Her breathing quickened, her body trembled in reaction to the touches and varying sensations shooting through her; his other hand moved, freeing up her hips as she tangled her hands in his hair.

His fingers closed around his own hardness, moving in smooth strokes as he drove her closer and closer to her edge; the grip of her hands in his messy hair tightened as she tumbled over the edge of her own climax, moaning and panting hard in response; her chest heaved with her breathlessness.

The archer dropped his other hand to the bed immediately as a moan broke his own lips. She rose a brow, smirking slightly at him as she regained a little of her senses and beckoned him up. Her lips brushing against his as he moved once more to hover above her, she tugged on his bottom lip with her teeth as she pulled away before giving him a hard enough push to have him flat on his back. Her hand moved down his bare, muscled torso and he glanced down at her.

"Tasha that really isn't necessary I--" This time it was him that didn't get to finish.

She took the tip of him into her mouth, flicking her tongue over it as he rolled his head back.

"Oh god, Tasha." Fuck, fuck. Damn, he'd forgotten how good she was.

It had been years since they were _this _intimate.

As she took more of him into her mouth, her tongue slipped down the back of his shaft and as she moved up and down, she could feel his body tense; the sounds that broke his lips telling her she was doing a damn good job of dragging him toward the same edge he'd sent her over; her hand following the movements of her mouth and he fought to keep control.

Hell, at this point he cared very little for control.

As her tongue slipped over the tip again, his hand slammed into the bed.

"You're gonna have to stop or this is gonna be--"

He watched her cock an eyebrow and he knew damn well there and then that she didn't care. She knew damn well that he had more stamina in him than that. As he slipped further into the warm of her mouth and her hand slid down his shaft he felt the last vestiges of control leave his body and she felt him throb against her tongue as his climax filled her mouth and Clint Barton cried out her name.

When she was certain he'd finished, she pulled back running her tongue over her lips as she let out a small laugh; he lay there looking like he could quite literally die a happy man right now.

"So, do you need a minute there hotshot?" She questioned playfully.

She leaned up to place a lingering kiss against his lips and he flipped the two of them over, shaking his head at her question and he nudged her legs apart with his knee, lining himself up before he entered her in a swift movement that had them both moan; she buried her head in the crook of his leg, tugging at the tender skin with her teeth as her nails raked up his back and her right leg curled around his.

Her hips meeting his urgent movements and it was clear both were still tender; this felt more intense than anything she'd felt in years. 

"Oh God, Clint." She moaned pulling away from his neck to kiss him.

His hands found hers and pinned them above her head. She knew from the look in his eyes it was simply for the contact, there was nothing dominant about it. Her hands tightened a grip on his he moved inside of her, dragging her once again toward her edge.

Fucking damn him. 

She didn't have time to form a coherent thought before she felt the build up crash over her and her body gave in to the pleasure, her leg tightened round his as she clenched around him, crying out his name through a dizzying climax.

He felt her end wash over him and his hips met hers in a final few thrusts before he exploded, his whole body felt the intensity of orgasm as he rode out his climax with slower thrusts until he felt himself shaking and he fell down beside her.

There was no goddamn way he could think straight.

Neither could breathe without a heaving chest.

He looked over at her though and he incline this head, inviting her to cuddle into him if she wanted to. He didn't expect her to do it though. She let out a lazy yawn before she shuffled over and laid her head on his chest, he wrapped his arm around her.

"That was uh..." he cut off, contemplating it. 

The fog in his mind slowly easing but still, all he could think about was her.

"Unexpected?" She offered for him.

"Yeah, little bit." He agreed.

Not that he was complaining of course. He'd wanted her for years. Hell, all he'd wanted was her for a hell of as long as he could remember if he was going to be honest with himself no matter how much he'd tried to move on. She was the most complicated person he knew but that didn't stop him loving her.

Never had, never would.

"In a good way." He smiled looking obviously quite blissful as he looked at her.

She could tell he was trying to make sure she wasn't hurt though. She rolled her eyes and whacked his arm.

"Stop that! I'm not made of glass."

He sighed, she was right but that didn't stop him worrying. Natasha was tough but she was also capable of being hurt. Him having to rescue her proved that. She'd never ever admit that he'd rescued her though. She'd maintain she could handle it herself no matter what, he knew her too well.

"What was that, Tasha?" He had to ask.

She closed her eyes. Of course he had to ask. Why the hell did he have to ask? She didn't have an answer, not yet.

"This was-- is--." She cut off, chewing her lip.

"An apology? A way for me to show you I still give a damn?"

"There are easier ways to apologise." He replied. 

She wrinkled her nose, she really wasn't good at this.

"Clint, I didn't mean it like that. I _am_ sorry for what I did but I didn't sleep with you to apologise for what I did, that was a dumb thing to say. This was me. This was about us. This was about me needing to _feel_ something real. This was about me needing to prove to you that you're wrong, this is me trying and probably failing to show you I do give a damn."

She really did. She'd never stopped loving Clint. She wasn't even sure she was capable of it but she had learned to bury it, she'd had no other choice.

"And what happens come tomorrow? 'Cause today or tomorrow or any other day, it ain't gonna change how I feel about you." If she even stayed tonight.

He honestly wasn't sure she would. If this was anything like every other time they'd slept together she wasn't going to stick around. That stung.

"Can we work that out tomorrow? Can we just have tonight? Please?" 

Tonight.

Tonight was better than nothing. Tonight he'd get to sleep with her in his arms so yeah, tonight was better than nothing.


	4. Every night has its dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha - after deciding to let Clint stay the night with her - has a restless nights sleep which leads to a small argument and a morning of conversation and normalcy, a normalcy that shocks Clint.
> 
> But when she goes home, a handwritten letter throws Natasha through a loop and she realises that a close friend of hers may very well be dead and no one told her about it.

It was a restless night for the both of them so far. Natasha - to his surprise - hadn't asked him to go back to sleeping on the couch and instead had told him he could stay with her if he wanted to which was - he knew - as close as she was ever going to come to asking him to actually stay.

She didn't ask, in all the time he'd known her she'd never outright asked him not to leave after; half the time it was her that did the leaving. Well, more than half if he was going to be honest. It surprised him that she hadn't left either. She was rarely the type to actually stick around when it came to them, she hadn't stayed with him after they'd slept together since they'd been together. 

He couldn't say anything about-- Well, that was a road he didn't even want to go down, why would he?

Her dreams had her thrashing most of the night, tossing restlessly and whimpering, she'd woke up trying to hold back a scream; she wouldn't show weakness, she never did unless she was pretty much given no other choice; he was used to her avoiding any and all sense of vulnerability at this point. She had opened up to him, she had opened up to him a few times over the years but she always tried to remain strong. 

Always strong. Always stubborn. Always adamant that she could face the world alone.

She tried her damn best to act like she didn't need anyone even when she clearly did.

Tonight was one of those instances. Tonight was one that she clearly didn't need to spend alone and tonight was yet another where she hadn't actually formally admitted she didn't want him to leave.

Trust him to fall in love with the most difficult woman on the planet.

He hadn't said a word to her though, not until she spoke anyway; he didn't want to wind up giving her a reason to pull away again.

"Guess I thought I'd sleep better if someone was with me." She sighed.

Someone. Yeah that stung. He almost physically winced.

Almost.

It didn't matter if he tried to hide it or not, she noticed. She was trained to read people after all and far better than he was at that. He knew SHIELD training was damn good but what she'd gone through was 10,000 times more efficient.

More brutal, too.

"I didn't mean like that, Clint." She sounded apologetic.

Tired and frustrated, too.

"No, I get it. I don't have any right to expect anything, this is what it is, right?"

"And what _exactly_ do you think _this _is?" Now she sounded pissed.

He couldn't blame her, it was a dick move.

"Nevermind, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." 

"No, you shouldn't have." She snapped.

"But you're still gonna explain. Come on, what _exactly _do you think this is?"

"Tasha I--." He began.

He had no goddamn idea whether continuing to tread on the thin ice he was clearly on was a good idea but he'd gone and gotten himself into this so he had to finish it. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. It was a habit he'd always had.

One she noticed immediately. He only ever did that when he felt cornered or something really bothered him.

"I get it if this is just another of those times where you gotta blow off some steam or whatever, I do. It's all good. You know how I feel about you and--"

She glared at him with enough intensity to get him to literally stop talking. Oh he'd seen that look before and it _never_ ended well.

"So I tell you that I do actually love you after trying like hell to deny that all these years and you think this is just some bullshit hookup because I got shot and I faked my death, is that about right?" Yep, pissed.

_Very _pissed.

"Aw, come on. I didn't mean it like that." Way to blow it, Clint.

She moved to stand up and immediately his hand moved to her arm to stop her. She looked back at him and flexed her jaw. Her eyes blazed with a fury she was definitely struggling to deal with in a calm and rational way. Calm wasn't typically Natasha's thing when she couldn't deal with her feelings.

Hell it was rare she even ever faced her feelings much less talked about any of them. She was better at burying them than she was anything else because she couldn't get it out of her head that she had to compartmentalize everything.

"I've wanted you to tell me you've loved me for years now. Like, literally it's all I've wanted for years and I want this to be more but I just want you to know I don't expect anything is all."

Which he hoped sounded rational; he'd wanted her to tell him she loved him for years now and while Clint was more than aware that it made him sound like a little puppy, he didn't want to push her away, not now. Not when they'd made real, actual progress. It seemed to abate some of her anger because she huffed out a sigh and sat down again.

"I don't know what this can be." She admitted.

"If it can even _be _anything because neither of us is in the right place right now."

Well she wasn't wrong.

He didn't want to admit it but she was right, he was still pissed as hell for her faking her death and he _still_ didn't know exactly what had happened or where she'd been in that time or what she'd done or even why she had decided _not _to tell her closest friends about it and had let them all think she was dead for months.

Hell he didn't even know if anyone else knew she was still alive but he was smart enough to know now wasn't the time to ask.

"You know that whole 'right time' thing is a myth, right?" He joked.

She turned to look at him, a small laugh breaking her lips and she shook her head.

"Well I think there's a _better_ time than after I come back from the dead and when you're pissed at me for doing what I did. I know you, Clint. You're angry and I can see it in your eyes. There's no way you can let this drop without answers and I can't give you any you'll be satisfied with, not yet." 

"Will you stay anyways?" He glanced at her as he spoke.

She nodded and he grinned. That was a minor triumph at least. If he could get her to stay then there was a chance that he could get her to open up to him. She needed to open up, whether it was going to be to him or not was up to her but he could hope like hell she would; if he wanted this to work - hell if she wanted this to work - she was going to have to start opening up sooner or later.

"Mm, good." He replied, shifting over again so she could get back into bed.

This time - much to his surprise - she curled into his side and laid her head on his chest. She glanced up at him through tired eyes and he kissed her on the top of the head. She rolled her eyes anyway despite the fact that it brought her comfort.

Even she could be a sucker for his cute shit sometimes.

Sometimes.

"Maybe sleeping like this will be better. I might actually _get _some sleep." Trust her to try to rationalise it.

"Y'know you could just say '_Hey Clint? Mind helping me get away from the nightmares for a few hours?_' Because you know, I wouldn't. Its kinda what I'm here for."

"Whatever Romeo, can we just get some rest please? We have a busy day today because you're probably not gonna let me do it alone otherwise you'd have to drop your mother hen shit for a few hours."

"Do what?" He questioned.

"Go home, face the debrief, contact people I need to contact? I don't know. Lots of stuff." She yawned.

"'Kay, well sleep first and we'll figure that out later."

"Goodnight Clint."

"Night Tasha."

*****

It was after 9 before either of them woke up again. She woke first, Clint lay on his back with his mouth open just slightly sleeping soundly which even she had to admit was cute as hell albeit a testament to just how big a dork Clint Barton really was with the yellow lab curled up on the floor on his side of the bed. She couldn't help but smile at the fact that Lucky raised his tired, furry head at her as she stood up and she leaned down to run her hands over his ears.

Picking up Clint's t-shirt off of the floor, she slipped it over her slender form and made her way out of his bedroom and downstairs to the kitchen to make coffee. Coffee was how people like them got through the day. Pouring two cups, she added the sugar and cream the way he liked before she padded back upstairs.

Both cups were deposited on the bedside table and she sat down, poking him gently in the side to wake him up.

"Mm, not now Lucky." Clint stirred, waving his hand slightly.

Natasha raised a brow and she chuckled.

"Clint wake your ass up." She spoke playfully, poking him in the arm this time.

"N'Tasha?" He barely sounded coherent. It was cute.

He could barely even string her name together he was that tired but then they hadn't had the most restful night in the world; the two of them - as spies - were used to a lack of sleep but it was restless even for people like them.

"I made you coffee." She inclined her head toward the two cups.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes as he let out a loud, dramatic yawn.

"Heh, thanks." He reached over to grab the cup.

"Hey, you swiped my shirt." He murmured after he'd had a good quarter of his coffee.

"Yep." She replied simply.

"Problem?" She smirked.

"Looks better on you." He studied her as he spoke.

She chewed her bottom lip slightly, her eyes flicking up to look at him through dark lashes with her red hair messy from sleep falling slightly to frame her face.

"Oh yeah?" 

She watched his reaction, the way he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, the way he swallowed almost nervously, the way his eyes flicked from her body to get face again... She couldn't help but laugh slightly. Poor guy. She knew just how to wind him up and she always did.

She offered him an apologetic smile.

"No fair." He replied with a sigh, shaking his head.

She leaned over to place a lingering kiss against his lips, he moved just slightly so that he could pull her into his arms. 

Goddammit. This was different. Good, but very very different. It seemed almost normal, almost normal was something that Natasha never seemed. Fierce, determined, independent... It hadn't been like this since the very early days of their relationship back when the pretenses had been dropped and she had actually started to open up to him properly.

She'd ran soon after, but still: for those brief, fleeting few moments? He knew they'd had something _real_.

"Good morning to you, too." He spoke as she broke their kiss.

A happy sigh broke his lips. 

"Well, I figure this would be better than you waking up to a note." She offered him a playful smile.

"Don't worry, that wasn't my plan." She amended.

She had considered it but then, slipping out and doing whatever she needed to do for the day and perhaps come back later. She wasn't entirely sure on that but for a half second she had indeed considering just slipping out because in truth, she was afraid of doing all of this all over again. She was afraid because she knew all too well that this would likely just end badly for the pair of them.

She wasn't used to taking a chance on anyone. James was different. Their past tied them together in a way that nothing could break but her feelings for him were far more complicated and filled with far more pain than her feelings for Clint were. With Clint, it was pure and his love truer for her and she knew it. She suspected James held to her simply because he felt - outside of Steve - he had little else. That wasn't the case for her, she had a life, people she cared for. She'd fallen in love with Clint and that was a real, conscious choice of her own.

Clint had no history, no part of the past that she'd tried to escape from only a future he'd offered her.

"I'm glad you didn't leave." He smiled.

He reached for his hearing aid, slipping it back in thankful that she was close enough for him to read her lips. That was typically how he conversed in the mornings because he was a dumbass and the first thought in his head wasn't putting them back in. He could remember both Natasha and Bobbi scorning him for that over the years.

"You deserved better." She shrugged.

"I've already put you through enough." Indeed, both of them knew that to be true.

He sat up a little, glancing over at her. She was Messy and tired from a restless night, looking more casual than he'd seen her in years and yet she still looked so completely and utterly beautiful. To him, she had and always would be the most breathtaking woman in the world even if she didn't ever believe it was anything but flattery from him if he said it. She was difficult. She'd always been difficult. 

She wasn't used to people that genuinely cared for her for who she _became _rather than who she was. He didn't hold her to her past. She knew he didn't hold her to her past.

"Natasha, what--" He mulled over his words.

He placed his hand on the bare skin of her leg. She glanced down at it and a small sound broke her lips. Clearly the pair of them were still frustrated as hell but now wasn't the time.

"Later." She spoke as her eyes met his.

_Later_. He could deal with that.

******

Her trip to her apartment had been one that immediately she wished she'd never undertaken. The moment that she picked up her mail she scanned through the letters to one handwritten and clearly delivered by the author by hand. She opened the envelope and read the words on the paper inside and Natasha cast a look over her shoulder at Clint and released a sigh.

"I have to go to SHIELD. Now."

This letter - she knew - was months old, two from the date on it but she had to know if what was written here was true. She had to know if what was written here meant that while she was away fighting her own war, she'd ended up losing one of her closest, best friends. 

"Tasha, what's wrong?" He asked, clearly perplexed.

"I need to make sure someone is okay."

Someone. That was the only details she'd given him.

Someone. 

He frowned, but he knew all too well he'd oblige her anyway and so did she. She wasn't going to tell him a damn thing until they were there, that was even if she let him in the room with her while she demanded whatever answers it was that she needed. Whatever was going on though, it had clearly shaken her and she was clearly bothered by it.


	5. No one ever said it would be this hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint finally loses his shit and baits Natasha into an argument... Right outside of SHIELD HQ.
> 
> With the full extent of the damage she's caused out in the open, she has a decision to make and it's one that she battles with after realising that what she did nearly killed him and tore her apart in the process.
> 
> How do you say sorry for almost killing the man you love, anyway?

For the first time in seven months, Natasha came face to face with Steve Rogers and she looked _furious. _She stood there, glaring at him with her arms folded across her chest and it was damn clear that she was far from happy. Commander Rogers, that's what he went by now. Captain America was a mantle that had been handed to Sam Wilson for a time and then to James; she hadn't seen him either since she'd left but then she didn't know if he knew she was even alive.

She wasn't going to check in anytime soon to find out either. She had more pressing things on her mind. 

"What can I help you with, Natasha?" Steve looked curious as he spoke. 

He clearly didn't understand her fury. He operated very much the same way Nick Fury did sometimes in her eyes; information was given only to those that needed it though she had to concede to the fact that she wasn't easy to contact but they'd had over a week since she'd gotten back to tell her anything she needed to know.

"You didn't think that telling me Carol and Jess almost getting blown up was important?" She demanded.

Steve made his way around the table and sat on the edge of it, facing Natasha and he frowned softly at her before he shook his head at her. No. He didn't think telling her was important. That just made her all the more angry.

"Carol was mostly unharmed; she isn't an easy person to hurt but Jess was in the infirmary for weeks. She was hurt and quite badly by shrapnel. Carol got her out in time but, yes. she was hurt badly."

He spoke evenly like he was telling her that he'd had a good goddamn breakfast that morning and not that her two closest friends were attacked and almost killed in the process. 

"Wait, Jess and Carol got attacked?" 

It made her feel better - even slightly - to know Clint hadn't been aware of it and lying to her about it either. She'd have been even more angry if he had.

"Almost two months ago." Steve cast his eyes to Clint then.

"Who was it?" Natasha demanded.

"As far as we're aware, it was The Hand. Jessica and Carol were helping Luke Cage, Matthew and Luke's wife. There was an explosion and Matthew, Jessica and Carol took the worst of it."

"And they were stopped?" Natasha clenched her fists at her side.

"How is Jess now? Is she home? Is there any--"

"No permanent damage." Steve interrupted Natasha as she spoke.

"And Matt?" Natasha cared deeply for Matthew Murdock and she always had.

"Again, no permanent damage. He was on crutches for a few weeks, but he's fine."

She was glad for that at least. No one was permanently hurt and no one had died; she hadn't known Matt was involved, her letter hadn't told her that but she was glad that they were safe. Or at least as safe as they possibly could be.

"How did you find out, Natasha?" Steve asked, raising a brow.

"Carol left me a letter."

Out of instinct, her eyes moved to Clint. She saw the way his features contorted and confusion painted his eyes.

"_Carol _knew you were alive?" He sounded angry.

"Not here, Clint." She snapped.

Not here.

The archer turned on his heel and walked out of the room leaving Steve alone with Natasha. It had bothered Clint enough to know Steve knew she was alive and well and he hadn't said a goddamn word to her but to find out Carol Danvers knew, too? That - to him - felt like an insult. Natasha and Carol were good friends he knew, but he didn't think she'd have told her instead of telling him.

"Well, if that's all you needed?" Steve sounded oddly dismissive.

Natasha rose a brow at him and studied him. There was something troubling him and she could see it.

"And what's going on with you?" She questioned. 

"I have work to do, Natasha. You came in here, interrupted me and started yelling at me about something that happened while you were away and demanding answers; I was in the middle of something that I have to get back to." He made his way back around the other side of the table.

Evidently something was going on. Evidently, there was something troubling Steve Rogers even if he wasn't saying it.

"You know that I have a lot of _very _important work to do here, Natasha. As I explained to Carol, Jess and Matt when the incident happened, them getting hurt was unacceptable and we did dispatch a team to deal with it while we could. SHIELD stepped in. We helped Jessica and Matt with their medical issues following the incident. I'm _sorry _Your friends got hurt. They're alive and well and I'm certain that they'd love to see you but I don't have the time for whatever domestic you and Barton are about to have."

She knew that tone, there was little point in trying to get Steven Rogers to be even remotely honest with her about what was going on right now and so, Natasha walked out with nothing but a cast look over her shoulder to make sure he was as okay as he could be, and a sigh.

******

She found Clint Barton standing outside of the SHIELD building, leaned against the wall with a more than pissed off look on his face and Natasha immediately rolled her eyes at him. 

"Rogers blew me off." She commented.

This time, it was Clint who rolled his eyes and let out a sardonic laugh. Natasha rose a brow at him and folded her arms across her chest.

"You're _really _going to do this now? Here?" She huffed out a sigh at him.

"Yeah, Nat. I'm really gonna do this now. You told _Danvers _What you were doing and didn't tell me? You let me think you were dead for _seven months._ You told goddamn Carol Danvers about you faking your damn death and not me! That's bullshit, Tasha. Bullshit and you know it." He was angry. Of course he was angry.

This was the anger that he'd been burying for the last few days and it seemed as though this was the thing that was going to get him to explode. She studied him and a part of her felt guilty for what she'd done and, while she wasn't happy about it she could see why he was angry with her and she could see why he'd be so upset that she'd informed Carol of her plan and not Clint. Clint was her best friend just as Carol was, but Clint Barton had been in love with her for over a decade and that was exactly why she couldn't tell him.

"You're in love with me." She stated simply.

"I couldn't have your goddamn hero complex putting you in danger thinking you needed to save me. I don't need you to save me, Clint."

"Right, because you bleeding out in a goddamn burning dockyard wasn't you needing saving." He snapped.

"SHIELD sent you in, I didn't ask them to." She replied, equally as angrily.

"I didn't _ask _you to save me. You were sent in. You were obviously the closest goddamn team they had to me. It was nothing but a coincidence."

And a goddamn unfortunate one if he was going to act like this.

"Right. A coincidence. Thanks." 

She rolled her eyes at him so hard you could practically hear it.

"I didn't need you deciding to come with me or come find me. I didn't need your dumb ass throwing yourself into _My_ battle because you didn't want me to get hurt. I appreciate you having my back, I do. I always have, but I didn't _need _that this time. I needed to do this myself and I knew if I didn't make it so you couldn't follow me you would have. You, Logan, James, Laura... All of you would have done whatever you could to either talk me out of it or insisted you come along too and I couldn't let that happen."

So yes, she'd made a dumb decision and she knew she'd hurt a lot of people with it, but she'd done what she felt she _had _to do. She'd made sure that no one could follow her. She'd only told Carol because she'd literally had no choice.

"Danvers knows because I ran into her out there. She gave me the biggest lecture I've ever had and told me that I was an asshole at least a dozen times. I didn't tell her by choice. I didn't want her to know any more than I wanted you to know." She didn't want _anyone_ to know.

He wasn't going to accept that though. She knew him well enough to know that he was just about to swear she could have told him and he'd have been fine. She was right.

"I could've handled it, Natasha. If I'd known you were okay, I could've handled it."

"No you couldn't Clint. We both know you couldn't. Don't stand there and lie to me." She leaned against the wall.

"You couldn't have done what I needed and left me to handle this on my own and you know it. You care too much to step aside when you think I'm in danger and it'll end up getting you killed someday."

How was she supposed to live with that? How was she supposed to live with putting him in danger? She'd left because of that exact reason. 

"You left again and this time I thought it was forever." He replied quietly.

She hit the back of her head against the wall gently. He didn't believe it but she didn't want to cause him pain, she couldn't blame him for not believing it either but, she really hadn't intended for him to ever hurt. She never had. Hurting him was always a regret that she lived with and hated herself for; she wasn't as cold and unfeeling as people thought.

"I didn't wanna hurt you." She replied, glancing over at him.

A weak, sad smile touched her lips; she was mad as hell that he'd chosen to do this here and now but she knew as well as he did that there were times where your emotions got the better of you regardless of what you wanted. You didn't _always _have control. Clint was heavily driven by his emotions whereas she was used to burying hers. Usually, they were at opposite ends of the spectrum, but facing the pain she'd caused wasn't something even she could pretend not to care about.

He was more than aware that confronting her here and now was a goddamn bad idea if he'd ever had one - worse so than last nights little outburst - but his anger had bubbled over when he'd thought that she'd turned to Carol instead of him; he was already pissed as hell at the thought of her faking her death but thinking that she'd gone and told someone that it had been all bullshit instead of the person she knew loved her? Yeah, that really stung.

Though it turned out that him loving her was _exactly why _she hadn't told him what she was doing. He was frustrated as hell. He'd spent months thinking that he'd failed her. He'd spent months beating himself up over the fact that he'd lost her. That was hard to live with, the nightmares were harder. The nightmares where he'd literally watch her die over and over? Yeah, they were fucking impossible. He'd wake up screaming every goddamn time.

It was torture, hell in truth he'd have preferred torture to that. That was worse than anything else he could possibly have imagined. He'd have taken _anything _over that.

"I watched you die for months in my dreams. All I saw every time I closed my eyes was your coffin, do you have _any _idea how much that hurt? Do you know how many times I'd go sit at your grave and tell you how sorry I was?" 

She couldn't even bring herself to look at him as he spoke; she wished like hell that he wasn't doing this here and now. She knew she deserved every ounce of whatever it was he had to throw at her but there was a better goddamn place than this. There had to be.

Stood outside of SHIELD with Clint Barton dragging her over the coals for her dumb ass mistake? Yeah. Not the ideal time at all.

She fought so hard to stay here and not to just walk off. She was doing pretty well so far.

"Clint I--" In truth she had no idea what to say to him.

She wished that she did. She wished that there was an answer to what he'd just said that was going to make even the smallest of differences but there was nothing. She could say _nothing_ that was going to make any of this right and she knew it. His words broke her heart; she stood there and she tried her damn best not to let it show that she was struggling to breathe. What she'd done was a crushing weight and one she knew she deserved.

"There's nothing I can say that's going to make this right." She replied quietly.

She moved, walking toward him and she took his hands into hers. There was nothing she could say. Nothing. His blue eyes cast up at her and she felt herself falling apart inside. His head was bowed and her forehead touched his. Her own words remained in her head. _There's nothing I can say that's going to make this right. _She wished there was. Last night had abated some of the pain and loneliness she felt but she didn't know how the hell it made him feel. She found herself wondering that now, but this now? This wasn't a good time to ask. 

He was in goddamn pain. So much pain that he didn't even know where to begin dealing with it and if he was going to be honest with himself, the part of him that had shattered when he'd lost her was cutting him up inside even though she stood here before him now. He knew she was okay. He knew she was safe and here and that she wasn't dead, he'd had more than enough tangible proof of that but it still didn't heal the pain from what he'd endured. 

She had broken the one person in the world that loved her more than anything.

"I'm sorry." She spoke softly. 

What difference did sorry make to his pain?

"I'm so sorry."

He'd always told her he wanted her to actually _show_ that she felt something more. Half the time he'd have just settled for her showing that she felt _anything_ and she knew it. She hid everything well, sometimes she swore a little too well but she wasn't hiding anything now. Now she didn't care who the hell saw anything, all she cared about was him. She owed him that much at the very least. 

She owed him that and more and she knew it but it wasn't about what she owed him or didn't owe him, it was about the genuine sense of pain and remorse she felt for what she'd done to him when he deserved better. She should have just stayed gone, at least that was a pain he'd have learned to live with eventually; she'd torn him apart again by needing help. She'd torn him apart again by being dumb enough to need a rescue.

"I lost you, Tasha." Fuck. 

How broken he sounded was the kind of harsh punishment she deserved for what she'd done.

"No you didn't. You never could." She moved her hand to his cheek.

She wanted so bad to comfort him. _Don't run, not now. Don't you dare walk away. _She kept repeating the mantra over and over in her head. She could not goddamn shut down now. She could not leave now. He deserved better.

Clint Barton deserved better. He'd never asked to love her.

He'd never asked her to goddamn make her fall for him. He'd never asked to be her mission. She'd dragged him into this. She'd made him love her and she'd broken his heart.

The Red Room program had made her cold and calculating. She'd made herself stupid.

She'd let herself fall in love with Clint Barton.

"I'm here. I'm right here." She hoped to hell that would offer him some comfort.

His hand moved to hers, his head moving just enough so that his nose bumped the end of hers. Her heart skipped in her chest. Being this close and yet feeling so far away was torture. She was well aware of the fact that they'd had more than a number of funny looks from varying people; she was surprised at herself for resisting the urge to either shoot them or beat the shit out of them. She hadn't pulled her attention from him at all.

Ah to hell with it.

She kissed him, her hand knotting in his shirt. If he needed the reassurance then so be it. She'd had the chance to turn to other people in the last few days but she hadn't. She'd stayed with him, ignoring her phone, ignoring absolutely everything until she felt remotely ready to face the world when he knew just as well as she did that she could have called absolutely anyone in those few days.

She hadn't cared about a goddamn thing but him.

She pulled back, a tear dripping off of the end of her nose; she never cried openly. This was probably the first time that Natasha had cried publicly since she was a child. She knew she couldn't, she couldn't be that weak. She couldn't show that kind of weakness, it was too dangerous. She inhaled a deep breath trying to steady herself. He brushed a tear from her cheek gently with his thumb.

"I love you so goddamn much that losing you nearly killed me."

She had no idea what she'd have done if anything had happened to him.

"I'd have had nothing to come home to..." She replied quietly.

"I will always come home to you, Clint. Always." 

He had been the only true sense of home she'd ever really had. She could have just kept it at casual sex and she knew that, but she'd lost the ability to do that years ago even if she refused to admit it to herself. It had always been because she felt more for him than she was ready to admit to herself.

"Don't go again, then you'll never have to worry about not making it home again." He spoke weakly.

"We both know I can't promise I'll never have to leave again, you know the job as well as I do." She sighed.

She wished that was a promise she could make but they both knew she couldn't and if he was going to be honest, neither could he.

"Then don't lie to me again. Don't let me think you're dead. Don't let me think I've lost you forever."

"That I can do." That she had to do.

She couldn't put him through this again.

"I love you, you know." She spoke as he pulled her into a hug.

"I know."

"Did you just Han Solo me?" She spoke with a small laugh.

"Yup!" He replied, sounding altogether a little lighter.

Goddammit, Barton. Sometimes he was such a pain in the ass and other times?

Other times she was reminded she really couldn't live without him.


	6. Beautiful crazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha decides to accept an offer for a poker night with her friends, but little does she know it'll be the last night of peace she has for a while...

She was glad to be home in the safety of her own home; the familiar comforts scattered around Natasha were something that she still scorned herself for. When she'd moved in here she'd promised herself that it would be devoid of any personal belongings just in case someone broke in and she'd have to leave again and while she didn't have pictures scattered around the walls - they were hidden in a photo album that she kept in her safe - she did have a collection of other random items; she had a few oversized cushions and excessively fluffy blankets, she had a collection of snow globes that she'd picked up from various places around the world...

She had small reminders that she was actually human and it was stupidity to the finest degree and she knew it. She crouched down by the breakfast bar to run her hand through Liho's fur and she found herself happy that her furry friend was alive, safe and well; Carol had done a damn good job at keeping the little pest alive which made Natasha happier than she could explain. She'd become somewhat accustomed to having her around. She wasn't home enough for a dog though she really liked dogs.

She'd often considered adopting one from the shelter down the street just because she'd popped past a few times and she'd heard the sad cries and it had reminded her far too much of her own wails when she was a child, no one had cared about her either. She volunteered there sometimes, not that she told anyone about it; what she did in her own time was her own business but she quite enjoyed just spending time with the unwanted dogs of the city. It was actually quite comforting to know her presence made someone happy.

Well someone aside from Clint, anyway.

She glanced back at him, he'd been insistent on making sure she got home safe and though he'd asked her to stay again tonight, she knew it wasn't a good idea. This mess was already bad enough. She'd told him that she couldn't and in truth, that she shouldn't either. She'd shot a message on the way home to Carol and her and Jess were going to stop by later which meant that Clint understood he should probably stay well away; she needed time with her friends and he respected that. She'd thanked him for everything he'd done for her over the last few days but she felt drained.

Mentally and emotionally, Natasha felt drained.

She hadn't thought that it would be _that _hard to face it. Clearly, she'd underestimated the emotional impact of what she'd done. She was an idiot for that and she knew it; she should have realised just how much it'd break Clint clean in two. He deserved better. She couldn't understand why he still loved her even after knowing how badly she'd lied to him. She didn't deserve it. He had to know by now that she didn't deserve it. He had to be pretty goddamn certain at this point that Natasha Romanov was unworthy of any kind of love from him at this point.

Her eyes flicked over her shoulder as he shifted nervously in the doorway and she rolled her eyes and slipped around him to close the door. 

"You can go sit down you know. Cat is evil but she's not a killer, at least not to my knowledge." She grinned slightly as she spoke.

Liho was a huge pain in her ass but she was quite fond of her. 

"You insisted on coming over so, sit the hell down and stop wearing out my carpet." She threw her jacket over one of the stools.

Stretching out, she meandered over to the fridge and pulled out a soda, looking at Clint as she asked him if he wanted one; he nodded and she pulled out another and walked over to hand it to him. She released a sigh as he sat down on her couch and she made her way over to the chair to sit down, pulling her legs under her as she curled up.

"You've changed the place up since the last time I was here..." He commented simply to break the silence.

"I bought cushions and a blanket or two." She rose a brow at him curiously.

She was fighting a smirk though.

"Not what I meant." He narrowed his eyes slightly at her as he stood up.

He made his way over to the shelves and studied her collection; it had grown a hell of a lot over the years but he reached to one just on the far right by the wall and he picked it up in his hands. It was from Rio, he'd bought her it on one of their first missions together when she'd defected and joined SHIELD.

"You still have this?" He sounded shocked, happy but shocked.

"Of course I do." She rose from the chair and walked over.

Plucking it out of his hand, she turned it over and pulled a folded up picture stuck to the bottom of it with tape and straightened it out, handing it to him with a small shrug of her shoulders almost like it was nothing at all.

It wasn't nothing.

It was one of the very first pictures they'd had taken, A polaroid where he was kissing her cheek, she had her hand against his. You could see the snow around them; it had been the dead of winter and they'd gone ice skating in Central Park. He'd fallen on his ass more times than he could count but she was so goddamn graceful it was almost criminal. He'd been dead set against the idea at first but she'd talked him into it. There had been a man there selling pictures and he'd bugged her into getting one because she'd dragged him out. The cold had turned the end of her nose a delicate shade of pink and he had turned her to face him just seconds after the picture was taken to press a kiss against the end of her nose, telling her that if she was cold they could go back to his place.

She'd laughed and declined, telling him that he still owed her a lousy hotdog from a vendor and that she wasn't _quite _done laughing at how much he was falling over yet. It had been the perfect night even with all of the bruises he'd accrued because of it.

"I kept that, too." She commented.

She'd already made her way back to her chair by that point but he ran his fingers over the picture and a smile touched his lips; they'd broken up probably about a month after this was taken, but he was glad that she'd kept it somehow.

"I used to take it with me on missions to remind me that I mattered to someone but then I realised how stupid it was if I was killed and someone found that... It wasn't worth it so I kept it there instead. The nights I couldn't sleep or the nights that I hated myself for what I'd done, I'd look at it and I'd remind myself what I'd done it for." To spare him.

She'd done it to spare him from the danger.

He turned to look at her.

"I loved that night. It was the happiest I'd been in years. I had you and I had us and it didn't matter what else happened in the world, I had the woman I love and that to me was better than anything else."

She already knew how he felt. He'd told her enough times over the years. It was impossible for her _not _to know but she smiled just a little at him anyway. In truth she wasn't sure why she'd showed him aside from the fact that she wanted him to believe she wasn't quite as cold as he might have believed she was; Natasha did hold to the more vulnerable sides of her humanity, she just did so in the privacy of her own home where no one could use it against her. 

"I wanted to save you, it's almost ironic. I wanted to save you from pain and I caused you more of it than I can ever apologise for. You have to stop loving me, you know that right?" 

He shook his head. He placed the picture down on the shelf and the snow globe on top of it.

"No, I can't do that. I've tried to do that. I tried to do that when I got married, I tried to do that when I was with Jess, I tried to do that for years on and off with Bob. I tried to stop loving you even when I knew you loved him and I tried to let that be the thing that made me stop but it never worked. I couldn't stop no matter what I tried. You want me not to love you and all I want is for you to love me. It's fucked up. I tried like hell to stop loving you, I even tried to hate you once but I never could. I've known exactly what you were since the beginning and I love you anyway." More fool him, huh?

"It's worth the pain, Tasha. I'd rather feel the pain of loving you than the pain of losing you." He made his way back to the couch.

She released a sigh and shook her head at him.

"I do love you and that's my problem; I tried too hard to walk away and I ended up tearing you apart in the process and you _still _love me. I did love James I-- It wasn't the same as the way I love you. What I had with him is not like what I have with you. We're tied together by the pain that we went through together and all we survived, James and I. But you? You offered me a future. You offered me a way out of all of that and a way that I could _stay _out of all of that but I was too afraid to drag you into it to take the lifeline you offered me no matter how much I wanted to."

And she did want to. She wanted to so badly.

"So this is me: shitty and broken and wondering why the hell you still give a damn about me and I don't know how to be anything that's good for you."

"Just be you, Tasha. Just be you." That's all he wanted from her.

That's all he'd ever wanted from her; he didn't want her to be anything else, not like Bucky did. Bucky still wanted her to be Natalia, he didn't care who she was he loved her all the same. Natasha, Natalia... It didn't matter to him. He loved her for _her _not for whatever side to her she chose to let rule her. Natasha was the person she'd become and Natalia was a past she wanted to escape. He loved her. He'd always love her.

"Who I am isn't anything good." She replied.

"The hell it isn't!" He argued.

She frowned at him. They both knew she _wasn't _a good person. Pretending otherwise was unfair to both of them, it was another lie that none of them needed. There had been enough lies already. She hoped like fuck that someday she'd be a better person someday but it seemed impossible now, after everything she'd done it seemed impossible. That didn't mean that she'd never done anything good though.

"You overestimate the good in me." He always had. She shook her head again.

"No, I see the _real _you." He shrugged.

She smiled then. Glancing at the clock on the wall behind him, she reached over to tap him on the leg.

"We'll continue this later, you need to go. Carol and Jess are coming by soon, I think Kamala is coming too, maybe Kate and America. I think Kamala might bring them over; Carol wants to play Poker." Natasha grinned.

She _always _won. Well, almost always. Jess gave her a run for her money sometimes. Spies had a hell of a poker face.

He didn't have time to get up and leave though before there was a knock on her door.

"C'mon, move your ass!" Natasha reminded him, padding over to the door to open it.

Immediately, she was engulfed in a hug by Carol Danvers and she let out a laugh, shaking her head. She had missed her best friend like hell, Carol glanced over at Clint and offered him a small, apologetic smile. She knew how much all of this must have hurt him.

"Get your ass outta here, lover boy." Jessica Drew glanced at Barton.

She smirked. The two of them had a rocky history at best and Clint reached his hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it again and he let out a nervous laugh. He glanced at Natasha. 

"'Kay well, I'll leave you girls to it." He spoke, trying not to let his awkwardness show.

It did. Jess chuckled and shook her head.

"Don't worry, I forgave you a hell of a long time ago. No hard feelings." Yep, it was rough on her.

But she knew there was little sense in holding to the bitterness when she'd found her own happiness; Carol Danvers had been her best friend and it had been a time before she'd realised she was in love with her, she could only be thankful that Carol felt the same. Carol stepped back from her embrace over the Russian redhead and she moved to stand behind Jess, embracing her from behind.

"Whoa you two are--?" Clint questioned.

"Huh. Congrats." Clearly he hadn't seen that coming.

Natasha had though.

She was good at reading people. She had never really cared for people, in point of fact she'd never really cared for much at all until she'd met these few people that had changed her views. Coulson was another; he had become a sort of father to her whether she'd wanted it or not. He had become somewhat attached to her, helping her o missions, aiding her and talking to her on comms during her long surveillance missions; in time she'd come to respect and care for the older man and she'd informed him several times that she wanted nothing from anyone at SHIELD.

But Coulson was stubborn. Just like Clint. Just like Carol. Just like Jess. Just like Matt.

They all insisted on caring for her whether she wanted their affections or not. Damn the goddamn lot of them.

Or at least that was the way she'd felt once upon a time; she didn't want to be that cold, calculating person that used people and then left. She didn't want to be the monster that Ivan had created; she was determined to prove that she was better than him regardless of what he'd told her or how he swore that she'd always be what he turned her into. She'd always be one of his _Devushka Ivana. _She'd never be her own person.

She'd always be a product of what he'd turned her into. What the years of torture and training had turned her into and she wanted to prove him wrong. These people caring about her proved him wrong. The fact that she gave a damn what happened to them too proved him wrong.

He was wrong about her. He'd always assumed he knew her because he'd been instrumental in her training and what she'd become as a young adult, but what he didn't realise was that a tormented, tortured child would always, always resent the person that had done that to them.

She was a killer, he was right about that but she was _human_ too.

She watched Jessica offer Clint a smile, thanking him before she slipped around Carol and Jess as Clint walked out of her open door, shutting it slightly behind her as she studied the archer.

"I'll text you later?" She smiled.

He nodded, seeming altogether happy with the idea before she slipped back inside and closed the door. 

Time with her friends - it turned out - was the best idea Natasha had in a long time. Laughing, joking, eating way too much takeout food and having fun not to mention beating almost everyone at Poker until it was just her and Jessica remaining and the two of them agreed to split their winnings; it as fun and amusing as it had been every other time.

It was probably the only time that Natasha actively liked to spend time with other women, Kate and her girlfriend America had - as she suspected - come along with Kamala and Natasha found herself glad to see all of them. 

She watched the way each interacted with the other and it made her all the more certain that her jailer, trainer and supposed pseudo father had been wrong about her all along; she was definitely not the monster he'd made her into and she definitely was not his _Devushka Ivana._ She was her own damn person and she'd worked hard to become this person, too.

Ivan was a monster, she was not. Not anymore.

Come the end of the night, she'd learned the whole story of what had happened with everyone when they'd been hurt and while she was glad for it, she was also angry about it; she wished that she'd been there for them and she'd made damn sure they knew that she was sorry for it. She made sure that they knew damn well that she was glad that they were safe and she'd told them about her little outburst at Steve when she'd found out, she'd omitted most of what had happened with her and Clint afterward but she'd told them some of it.

As everyone left, Natasha found herself tired but happy, happy enough but wondering what kind of terrors the night would bring; it was the first she'd had alone in almost a week. She wouldn't admit that it made her wonder whether she'd sleep at all, not to anyone.

*****

_N: Hey _

As promised, Natasha shot Clint a quick message.

_C: Hey there, how'd your night go?_

_N: Great honestly. It was nice to see everyone._

_C: Good, I'm glad you enjoyed it._

_N: How's yours going?_

_C: I'm sat on my couch with Lucky eating pizza watching The Walking dead._

_N: Is that the zombie thing? _

_C: Yup. It's kinda cool._

_N: I can leave you to it..._

_C: You don't have to._

_N: Don't worry this isn't a booty call._

_C: Heh, didn't think it was, you're cool._

_N: Just wanted to see how you were..._

_C: Better honestly, I didn't think you'd actually text me._

_N: Wow, ouch._

_C: Not what I meant, I meant that maybe you'd be busy or got tired or something._

_N: I told you I'd text you, dumbass. _

_C: And I'm glad you did, glad to know you had a good night._

Four times Natasha typed I missed you though and four times she deleted it. She'd spent almost a week with him now, it had become a familiar pattern she quite liked. She didn't send the message. She was too stubborn for that.

_N: I'll let you get back to your TV show, I should sleep anyway._

_N: Or try to._

_C: Oh, okay. Goodnight I guess?_

_N: Yeah I uh, goodnight._

_C: What?_

_N: I just... It doesn't matter. Go enjoy your TV show._

_C: No, tell me. C'mon Tasha._

_N: I guess I got used to you being with me. I mean, you have been since I got out of the infirmary so..._

There, she said it. Sort of. In her own way, of course. She rationalised it like she did everything else to make it seem like it was just something that made logical sense to her, but it was so much more than that.

_C: I could come over or you could come here? Just if you wanted to._

_N: No, it's okay._

_C: 'kay, well if you change your mind..._

_N: Don't worry about me._

_C: Not possible._

_C: I can't not worry about you, care too much remember?_

_N: Idiot..._

_C: I'll always be your idiot, Tasha._

_N: Go to bed. You've probably had too much to drink._

_C: Sober thanks!_

_N: Well then, I'm telling my idiot to go get some sleep. It's 1:30am._

_C: Says you. You're still awake too._

_N: Just to say goodnight to you._

_C: Look at you being all cute._

_N: I will hurt you. Sleep. I'll talk to you tomorrow._

_C: If you can't sleep will you promise me you'll text? _

_C: At least promise me that._

_N: I promise, goodnight._

_C: Night Tasha. Miss you._

She may or may not sleep tonight but at least Clint Barton had put a smile on her face. Come tomorrow, she'd need it.

Life is never simple for Natasha Romanov.


	7. Tell her that I miss our little talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Steve tells Natasha Ava is no longer in the care of SHIELD, she becomes determined to track the teenager down, promising herself that this time she won't forsake her and this time, this time she'll protect her herself; it has become clear she can trust no one else.
> 
> If Ava is being hunted, Natasha is aware she's probably on that same list once they learn that she isn't dead. Danger faces both of them and now there's no sense in them being in different places. Natasha realises that she should have taken care of the girl herself all along, after all they're the only people that really know what that shared hell of theirs can really do to a person.

**Ava Orlova, New York six months ago:**

"Whoa!" she dodged a man with a gun.

Falling sideways into the wall, she grazed her forearm and elbow on the rough stone of the wall and she let out a hiss of irritation, she couldn't see much of it in the dull light but she felt the sort of irritating prickling burn that came along with minor injuries. It'd start itching pretty damn soon; gravel rash was a bitch. She rolled her eyes. That was the last thing she needed.

He fired off another shot and Ava frowned.

That was sloppy.

He was going to start drawing attention to himself pretty damn soon, even in New York gunshots got the attention of the police. Whoever was paying this goon needed to seriously reevaluate their choices because she'd seen better trained monkeys in the zoo than this guy which meant that the people that wanted her were either sorely underfunded or they were desperate; she wasn't sure which was worse. He seemed to have absolutely no idea where she was which of course would be used to her advantage; Ava was smart. She'd had to become so in order to survive over the years.

She slipped behind him and incapacitated him with an arm around his neck - one that he fought and she still managed much to her surprise to hold on - until he blacked out. She stared down at her would be assassin and she shook her head, blowing her red hair out of her face. 

"What the shit was that all about?!" She wasn't talking to anyone specific.

She fell to the cold, damp ground in the alleyway and massaged her bruised wrist. Asshole had grabbed her pretty damn tight and launched her before he'd decided to take pot shots at her. He wouldn't be out for all that long so she hauled herself to her feet, grabbing his gun and throwing it into onto the fire escape and took off at a dead run, skidding to a halt as a car sped past and she rolled her eyes. It wasn't like she was in a hurry or anything. She turned and bolted down the street.

She had decided the shelter wouldn't be safe. If they'd found her the likelihood was that they knew she'd been staying at the shelter and that was a problem in and of itself.

She had nowhere to go now.

She'd busted out of SHIELD because she had learned quickly that they were no better than her previous captors, they may not have experimented on her or anything but they granted her very little freedom and they didn't trust her. It had been 8 years and they didn't trust her. They treat her like an outcast and didn't once treat her like she actually belonged.

Maybe if SHIELD had been kinder to her or even offered her the slightest sense of belonging there with them, she wouldn't have left in the first place feeling like she needed to get out of there before they decided when she'd come of age that she deserved to be locked up for the rest of her life.

She was a goddamn fifteen year old girl for heavens sake. They should have done more to include her, more to make sure that she didn't feel so goddamn alone and isolated. They knew what she'd endured, they knew what she'd been rescued from and yet they still turned their backs on her... Just like her so called rescuer. She felt bitter toward her to this day.

Natasha Romanov, so called hero. Abandoner of the girl she'd sworn to save.

Psh. Screw her.

She wished the hell that she could genuinely feel like that; she sought to find Natasha, to ask her questions about who she was and how they were tied together because even Ava could tell they were; it was a feeling she'd had deep inside of her since she'd met her and she couldn't shake it. All she'd done was sought out a chance to get to know her and she sought to thank her, thank her and ask why the hell she'd forsaken her and she hadn't come back like she'd promised.

Maybe it was simply because Natasha didn't have a use for the girl once she'd been handed off to SHIELD just like Ivan didn't have a use for her once she'd been rescued. At least now it seemed Ivan was determined to drag her back. Was Ivan the only one who cared if she lived or died?

What a horrible thought that was.

She made her way downtown, taking the subway to New Jersey and she fought like hell to find a place to stay, a place that turned out to be an abandoned warehouse where after she'd learned Natasha had died, she tried her damn best to keep herself safe and alive. Alive, but it would seem hunted.

Natasha was dead now, there was nothing to stop them from coming for her.

She had no goddamn idea why anyone was even so interested in her after all these years; she wasn't the same stupid little girl that she'd been once upon a time. She wasn't a product of the experiments and pain as she had been before. She was a teenager now with one hell of a survival instinct; she hadn't been anything close to what they'd tried to create for years.

Whatever they had tried to create...

What exactly was it they wanted to turn her into, anyway? It irritated her that even to this day, she had no answers; if these sons of bitches were determined to drag her back though it would seem that whomever it was wanted to finish what they'd started.

What would be left of _her _if they succeeded? Would she even survive it? She doubted they cared but she sure as hell did. She was well and truly alone in this world now; she'd felt alone for many, many years so far but now that she knew for sure that her rescuer was dead? She truly was alone; Natasha couldn't save her again and these people clearly sought to take advantage of it and kill her, if not worse. Death would be kind.

She was sure death would be kind in comparison to the other option. 

It was a poor state of affairs when you'd prefer death over anything else.

**Natasha, present day:**

SHIELD had called her in that morning and she'd sent a message to Clint on her way over, telling him that she'd been called in because Steve had decided there was something that he absolutely had to tell her. She hoped like hell it was an explanation for the way that he'd behaved yesterday; she knew about the job he had to do, she knew how hard it was and she knew the challenges that Steve Rogers faced, but he should have known that he could trust Natasha and that she'd be there to help him; she'd earned that right surely?

She walked into the command room, Steve's blue eyes moved to her and he released a sigh.

"Sit down, Natasha." He offered her a chair.

"No, I'm fine." She replied dubiously.

"Alright, well as you know, yesterday I was in the middle of something when you came in and it was something that I wasn't prepared to discuss with you at the time because I thought it was a situation that we could handle without your intervention but as it turns out, we aren't quite as good a tracker as you are. Ava left the protection of SHIELD six months ago, she learned of your supposed death soon after and she went underground, deeper than it seems even we can look. We've been keeping track of a cell of Russian FSB agents that we suspect are rogue and we've learned they're trying to find her."

Steve breathed out a deep sigh. He watched the way that Natasha processed his information and he could read the fury on her face, he could read the concern there, the genuine anger and the soft sense of remorse he detected there, too. She hadn't been quite as good to Ava as she'd initially promised she'd be in order to earn the girls trust. She seemed to go through more emotions than even she'd thought possible in a short space of time before she eventually reacted.

It seemed anger won out.

"When the hell were you planning on telling me?!" She snapped. 

"If we could bring her in? I wasn't." Steve shrugged.

"You had no right to keep that from me." She shouted, clearly she was upset.

Clearly, she was distressed at what he was telling her. He couldn't blame her.

"Natasha, we thought we could keep track of her well enough but she's far more apt at disappearing than we thought. She's very much like you."

"She's just a _Kid Steve!" _Surely, he must understand that.

"And one forsaken by everyone." Steve added, raising a brow as he studied her.

"I didn't turn my goddamn back on her I decided that if we were going to keep on being targets, she'd be safer here with SHIELD than she would with me." It had made sense.

It had made sense to her at the time, in retrospect it might not have been such a great idea after all. Ava thought she was dead, she had no reason to stay with SHIELD, she had no reason to trust anyone. Hell, Natasha hadn't even really given her much of a reason to trust her either the last 8 years. She'd failed her and she'd failed her miserably.

Natasha regret it wholly.

"I need to find her. I need every goddamn bit of intel that you have, Steve. Every goddamn thing."

There was no way she could find Ava without it. She needed everything that they had so that she knew where to start.

"Alright, I'll send everything I have to you." Steve offered a small smile.

Natasha nodded her head swiftly and turned to walk out. She allowed a sigh to break her lips as she chased her hand through her long hair. It was getting unruly; she reminded herself to get a haircut when she had some spare time but in the meantime, she pulled her hair back to tie it out of her face. She tugged her phone out of her pocket and - as promised - looked briefly at the intel Steve had sent to her; she'd need to look at it properly when she got home.

She was still downright furious and the whole time, she'd spent the whole time trying not to want to shoot Steve.

It would do her no good.

She was glad she'd brought her bike; she hated walking that distance and she hoped like hell that the traffic wouldn't be too bad on the way home. She wished the hell that she hadn't text Clint though. She didn't want him to come over, not today. Not now. She had to go through all of this intel and she had to find a way to find Ava and save her from whomever - or whatever - was out there after her, though she knew it wouldn't be long before she was in the same boat as the teenager was. If they were hunting Ava, there was a strong chance that they'd do exactly the same to her. The two of them shared a fate.

One tied together in ways that neither understood. Natasha knew that better than anyone and it was one of the very, very many reasons that she'd chosen to let Ava stay with SHIELD instead of with her. It was too dangerous, far too dangerous but if she happened to get the girl to trust her and come home with her? Well she wasn't altogether sure what she'd do after that. That was even if Ava would come with her; she hated the thought of sending her back to SHIELD. That wasn't safe for her either.

Natasha though was in no fit state to take care of a child, teenaged or otherwise. She wasn't exactly maternal.

And she'd never known her younger siblings.

Once she got back to her apartment, Natasha made sure to lock the door behind her and shot an equally proficient message to Clint asking him _not _to come over. She had business to take care of and it'd take her quite a while to do so. She said that she'd contact him when she was done and promised that she'd explain everything eventually. She felt awful and she _knew _he'd take it badly after everything that she'd done already but she could see no other choice.

Ava wouldn't trust Clint. She didn't know him. It would be enough of a battle getting her to trust _her _again. 

Natasha had let her down badly enough.

She spent hours, literally hours pouring over the intel with coffee poured one after the other to keep her awake; dusk and dawn rolled around and she realised once it hit 8am that she'd had no sleep at all but it didn't matter. Breakfast was a must though. Natasha made amazing pancakes. She'd always been fond of them. So far, she'd managed to work out that there was no way in hell that she'd go to any of the shelters in the city; she knew that'd make it too dangerous unless she'd assumed a false identity so that was Natasha's first stop; she listed every shelter in the city with addresses on her phone. 

It'd take her a day or two to check them all though, and that wasn't including all of the 'underground' facilities or hostels. She listed most of them too though because she wasn't going to rule absolutely anything out; she had to find the girl before whomever was looking for her if she wasn't too late already. She hoped like hell that she wasn't. 

She hoped like hell that they weren't already one step ahead of her; if Ava had died because of Natasha's failure to protect her...

Well, she'd never forgive herself. She hated herself enough already but she'd hate herself more if her charade had cost Ava her life.

Riding around the entire city was stressful at best; she was exhausted, craving a hot shower for her tired muscles and a decent nights sleep but she didn't have time for that, not now. Now, she had to put all of her time and energy into saving Ava. She'd let the girl down far too much already.

Clint had texted her at least 11 times, asking her to explain what was going on and asking her to let him help but she couldn't. She wasn't ready to admit just how badly she may very well have failed. She'd failed Clint. She'd failed Carol and Jess, she'd failed Ava.

She wasn't having a good week at all.

Fifteen shelters she'd tried so far before she'd come across a girl named Kat that had quite literally bribed Natasha in exchange for information; it had cost her $200 for some sixteen year old girl to tell her a story of a vigilante girl that lived somewhere near the docks in New Jersey; it was no wonder she hadn't found anything so far. She hadn't thought about going that far out. She was glad though that Ava had. Away from the main city was definitely her best bet; she was a smart girl.

Natasha had told her that she ought to keep her head down and that she ought to be sharp witted and quick. She'd taught her to be aware of herself and her surroundings, she'd told her that there was nothing more important than trusting yourself.

She hoped that those lessons had paid off.

It was around 10pm by the time she made her way to the docks, sitting atop a roof that gave her a view around her she assessed her options. Tonight though - it seemed - would be fruitless and she wondered whether the girls intel was any good. Natasha made a mental note to track her down again tomorrow. She wouldn't be all that hard to find, she was a grifter. She'd stick to familiar areas she'd know would be profitable for her.

She'd sought out a motel for the night, it was better than traveling all the way back home again. Clint texted again at least another 8 times. She found herself sighing as she flicked through all of the messages. He was worried. She could tell that he wanted answers but until she knew for herself what was going on she knew it was best to keep him out of it. She needed Ava to trust her. She wouldn't be able to do that if she brought Clint along with her.

She'd replied to his last message anyway:

_Hey, look I know you're probably really mad at me because you feel like I'm lying to you again but I'm really not. This is complicated but I will tell you everything, I promise. I have to do this alone, someone's life literally depends on it. I'm not in danger, if I was I'd tell you. I'd ask for your help this time. Please, let me do this. Trust me._

And with that, she'd gone back to flicking through the intel on her phone wishing idly in the back of her mind that she could contact Xavier for help. His goddamn abilities would be useful right about now.


	8. Fire meet Gasoline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha manages to talk Ava into coming home with her and has a rather simple plan for the night... Until Ava pins Clint to the wall by his throat.

**Ava Orlova, NJ Dockyard:**

The air burned her lungs; it was starting to get so cold outside that it hurt to breathe and your breath was visible in a fine mist. She watched the city around her and she found herself saddened. She welcomed the burn in her lungs though, it reminded her so of Mother Russia and when she'd been safe with her parents when she was a child playing in the snow with her father.

She missed the knowledge that she had someone out there that cared for her; her father had been used for his brilliance and then murdered, her mother... She couldn't even remember what fate her mother had met at this point in her life. She'd spent years trying to block it all out.

She'd spent years trying to forget being that scared little girl that Ivan tortured, how he used to strap her to chairs and pump God awful things into her body, how he'd keep her awake for days on end with horrible noise, how he'd push her over and over to fight for her life against impossible odds, how he'd tell her that if it weren't for his grace, she'd be dead.

She'd known then that she meant nothing; if she failed his 'tests' she'd meet a swift death if she were lucky. If not? She'd seen what had happened to others.

She was a child. No child should have been through such horrible things; she knew that he was renowned for it though; many of the 'scientist's' Ivan employed made no secret of the fact that this wasn't the first time he'd done such 'tests' but they doubtlessly thought she wouldn't hear their chatter.

She'd spend nights kicking away and banging on the door of her prison only to get no answer, no rescue, no one that came to see if the child was okay in her distress only silence. Silence and those were the better nights. On the ones that weren't, when they were she'd be pumped with sedatives and it'd be worse for her the next day. 

She was safe here, at least that's what she kept telling herself. She was safe, away from the cold, icy hands of her captors and temporarily out of the dark stare of death itself but she wasn't free, not by any means. Running for your life meant that you were never free and she knew that until they were brought down forever, she never would be.

SHIELD hadn't been freedom, hell it hadn't even been safety and yet she'd promised it would be. It was trading one kind of imprisonment for another.

The only thing that Natasha Romanov had told her that was true was that the best thing you could do was trust yourself.

She just failed to mention the best thing you could do was trust _only _yourself.

Ava didn't trust anyone; she had spent the last six months living out of varying empty buildings, beating the shit out of people that sought to take advantage of people that otherwise couldn't take care of themselves and she'd come across some street level heroes that had either given her a bed for the night or bought her a hot meal; she was glad for them.

She'd hauled in a criminal or two to the police or helped a PI named Jessica Jones with a few of her investigations; the two of them had met when Ava quite literally ran smack into Jessica's husband Luke. 

Turned out one night they'd been after the same scumbag and voila! She'd literally ran into him like... Straight into him and gotten knocked on her ass in the middle of a rainy New York street. She'd sworn that he'd given her a concussion from it. Dude was huge.

Both of them had no idea who she was though, she'd told them her first name and that was about it; they'd been good to her even despite knowing next to nothing about her; Jessica had been a little unsure about it at first but Luke reminded her that she hadn't been all that different once, when it got particularly bad out during the night they'd invite her to stay on their couch and she appreciated that.

They'd even bailed her out that one time she'd gotten herself arrested for throwing someone through the window of a bodega because he'd grabbed a hold of her and he wouldn't let go.

Tonight though, she was alone.

She'd chosen to be, and she wasn't in a particularly fit state mentally to go out there and do the whole vigilante-thing so she sat on top of a shipping container with a pizza and a coke as she leafed through a magazine that she'd swiped off of a table outside a cafe on her way back along with a hoodie that she'd donned because it was chilly tonight.

She wasn't paying any attention at all to anything written there but she did stop abruptly when she heard the telltale _clank _of someone's boots hitting the metal behind her and Ava whirled around. She had nothing on her but a pocket knife.

Ha. That wasn't going to help.

Her eyes flicked to the womans face. She immediately shuffled backward and shook her head.

No.

Impossible.

"You're dead." She stated flatly.

"Yeah, that may have been a little exaggerated." 

Ava let out a laugh, it sounded almost maniacal as she made her way to her feet and shook her head.

"Great, just great. I spend six, no, _seven_ months thinking you're dead and I'm being hunted by mercenaries or whatever the hell they are but sure, let's make jokes. That's just great. Thanks." She sounded incredulous.

How could she not be?

Natasha released a sigh and shook her head.

"Can we talk about this somewhere else, please? You know you can't stay out here. You're obviously aware of the danger you're in so--"

"Oh do not act like you care!" Ava interrupted.

She really wasn't trying to be a brat, she was pissed as hell at her though.

"That's fair." Natasha conceded, she studied the teenager.

"But wrong. I do care. I thought I was doing the right thing, turns out I'm not good at judging what that is."

"You think?!" Ava clapped back immediately.

It wasn't even as though anyone could blame her for being angry. She had been on her own since she'd busted out of SHIELD knowing all too well that someone was hunting her thinking the only person that had ever saved her - and other person who'd abandoned her too by the way - was now dead. 

"Look Ava, you can be angry at me if you want but here isn't the place to do it. Please, let me take you someplace safe and then you can yell at me all you want."

"Oh, hell no! I am not going back to SHIELD. Screw that. I'll take my chances out here."

If that wasn't a testament to how much she hated the place she didn't know what was. She'd quite literally rather stay out here where she probably was in mortal danger daily than be back there. No thanks.

"Not SHIELD. My place." Natasha replied, taking a half-step forward.

"What-- Wait, what?" Okay, she hadn't seen that coming.

"SHIELD clearly can't keep you safe and you're just gonna run again if I take you back there so, at least at my place you'll be safer. No one knows where I live; it isn't on any files, my building is small, the few neighbors I do have are either old or work too much to care about who else lives there. You'll be safe. The only problem you're gonna have is if you're allergic to cats." Natasha shrugged.

"Let me guess, neighbor is a crazy cat lady?" Ava rose a brow as she spoke.

"No, I have my own."

Ha, Natasha took care of a pet but she couldn't take care of a person. Great. Just great. Ava narrowed her eyes and Natasha noted her reaction with a roll of her eyes.

"Will you just stop being a pain in the ass and come with me, please? I've been looking for you for 2 days now, if I didn't care I wouldn't have bothered and you know it. You can fend for yourself clearly."

She was still alive after all, Natasha was just a little proud of that.

"So, Red Widow: How about you get your little ass off of the streets and to a nice warm apartment where you can get a decent meal, a shower and sleep in a bed for once in months?" Natasha had a small smirk playing on her lips.

Ava's cheeks turned a deep shade of crimson and Natasha laughed.

"That was-- It's not-- Ugh, whatever. Lets go." Teenagers.

Strange, strange creatures.

*******

**Natasha Romanov, her apartment: **

She dumped her keys on the table not far from the door as she walked in, shrugging out of her jacket as she made her way inside and glanced back at Ava, Natasha stretched out her arms and released a groan; she was pretty sure she was going to suffer for pushing her body so hard the last few days later.

She needed sleep and her side felt like it was literally on fire. Clint wasn't going to be thrilled with her and she knew it.

"Mi casa is su casa." Natasha shrugged as she looked back at Ava. 

Ava rolled her eyes.

"I'm surprised you don't live at SHIELD or the Avengers place."

"I like my own space."

Natasha made her way toward the door leading to the balcony and threw it open to let the cat out.

"Of course you do. You don't play well with others, I remember now."

"Some others I do." Natasha countered.

Ava walked inside anyway, closing the door behind her as she sighed and took in Natasha's apartment; it was... Nice. She'd clearly put in quite a bit of effort toward cleaning and maintaining it, it was decorated carefully with colors that all went together well and furniture that wasn't just there for practicality and that threw her a little bit.

She'd always viewed Natasha as being so regimented. This didn't look like the home of someone that lived solely by practicality.

This looked almost like the home of someone that wanted to find a place to belong, especially the collection of snowglobes on the shelves by the window. Ava shook her head, that threw her more than she wanted to admit; she was starting to think her assessment of the Black Widow wasn't quite as accurate as she'd thought.

"I like the name, by the way." Natasha glanced at the girl over her shoulder.

"It suits you." She offered her a small smile.

"Thanks, I think?" Ava replied cautiously.

"Nice homage."

"Oh, don't with the ego. It wasn't _that _much about you."

Natasha rose a brow and chuckled.

"Sure, sure. Whatever kid. You hungry? There's Chinese food in the fridge and pizza, or I can call something fresh in. We have soda, juice, water... There's fruit, milk... Some cereals, too. Whatever is in here you're welcome to as long as it doesn't have an alcohol content. I do _not _need a drunk teenager."

Ava wrinkled her nose then.

"Yeah no, I'm cool thanks. I've seen enough stupid decisions made by drunk people." 

Natasha gave her a soft smile; she was impressed that the girl had learned from other people's mistakes where that was concerned. Most girls her age would take advantage of the access alone but not Ava, then again Ava wasn't like other girls her age.

She was different, damaged, complicated just like Natasha herself was.

She saw a lot of herself in Ava.

"Why don't you go get a shower and I'll call us in some fresh, hot pizza, maybe some chicken wings?" Natasha offered.

Immediately from the look on the teenagers face she could tell that it was a suggestion that was much appreciated, Natasha remembered well just how much the simpler comforts could mean when you'd been deprived of them.

"You're gonna be safe here, Ava. I promise. I know I've said that before and it wasn't true but this isn't like that. I won't let anything happen to you again." Failing once was bad enough.

She wouldn't make the same mistakes twice.

"I guess we'll see." Ava replied with a soft sigh.

"Bathroom?" 

"Right at the end of the hall. There are towels in there, I'll put you out some clean clothes for tomorrow and something to wear for bed and we'll go get you some stuff of your own in the morning, or afternoon. Whenever you're awake." 

Ava chewed her lip as she listened to Natasha, mulling over what she was saying and wondering whether or not she could actually trust her; she decided quickly it was better than the other options she had. 

She didn't have to trust her just had to take each day as it came, it was all she could promise at this point.

"'Kay, thanks."

The teenager offered her a weak uncertain smile before she walked toward the bathroom. 

Natasha released a sigh; she was way of her depth here and she knew it. She pulled out her phone and ordered food, making her way over to the couch as she sat down. Her thumb hovered over Clint's number. 

She had promised him answers but she had no idea hown to explain _this_. She decided against calling him and dropped her phone down on the cushion next to her.

By the time Ava got out of the shower, drying off the tendrils of her shoulder length red hair and walking into the living room, food had arrived. Natasha gestured to the kitchen counter and informed the teenager that she could eat as much - or as little - as she wanted but she made a point of telling her she'd much prefer it if she at least tried to eat something half decent.

It sounded rather motherly and Natasha groaned inwardly at herself. 

Ava smirked thing and padded toward the kitchen.

"Careful Romanov, you really are starting to sound convincing with that whole caring thing." The teenager jibed playfully.

"Shut up and eat your food." Natasha replied, trying to hold back a laugh.

Ava shrugged, grinning anyway.

Okay, maybe staying with Natasha wasn't going to be _that_ bad.

******

By the time midnight rolled around, Natasha had gone off to shower herself leaving Ava curled up on her couch watching a documentary on Jeffrey Dahmer on Netflix, one that she was finding more than a little disturbing but oddly fascinating and there she sat, quite transfixed by it until someone opened Natasha's apartment door.

Springing up, the teenager crossed the room in a matter of seconds and had the would-be intruder and potential assassin pinned to the wall with her hand on his throat.

He stared at her, quite clearly shocked and trying to get out of her grasp.

"Natasha, you'd better come here quick!" Ava shouted, not taking her eyes off of the man for even a second.

Natasha bolted out still soaked from the shower with her PJ's thrown on haphazardly, her eyes taking in the scene before her and she muttered _oh shit _in Russian before she huffed out a sigh and shook her head.

"It's okay Ava, you can let him go. He isn't gonna try and kill you or me. He's a friend."

Ava dropped her hand but glared at him anyway as she studied him. 

"Go back to your tv show, I'll deal with this." She spoke directly to the girl.

Squeezing her shoulder as she walked past her, Natasha smiled slightly as the teenager walked back to the couch. Natasha turned back to Clint. She looked downright furious.

Grabbing his arm she yanked him toward her bedroom.

"What the _hell_ are you doing here, Clint?!" She demanded.

He stared at her. He'd just been pinned to the wall by a strange girl and she was the one yelling, what the actual hell?!

"I wanted to check you were okay!" He snapped.

"Instead I come by and get assaulted by some crazy ass teenager! Who is that, Tasha? What's going on?" 

He wanted answers while she wanted to know what the hell he was doing here unannounced. She glowered at him.

"You showed up unannounced. I could have made sure she knew someone was coming over so she didn't get freaked out!"

"Who is she?!" Clint was confused.

Clearly so very confused. Natasha released a clearly irate sigh and ran her hand down her face.

"Lets back it up: what are you doing here?!"

"I was worried 'cause you didn't call me or anything so I wanted to see if you were home, lights were on so I thought I'd come see if you were good. I didn't want anything happening to you again." 

Okay, that made sense.

"You know know I feel about you babysitting me, Clint." She replied.

"I'm not babysitting you I was trying to make sure you weren't hurt or worse. Again." He was clearly pissed. 

Great, just great.

"Now your turn: who's the kid, Nat?"

"Her name is Ava Orlova. She was Red Room like me. I saved her 8 years ago and gave custody of her to SHIELD because the same people that wanted me dead wanted her either the same way or back again to finish what they started, I thought she'd be safe there but they treat her like a prisoner so she ran when she thought I was dead."

She watched Clint to make sure he was still following.

"SHIELD lost track of her, Steve told me the truth when he dragged me in and told me that she was being hunted by some rogue FSB operatives. She's worked hard to stay out of their way and out of SHIELD view so I tracked her down. I'd already failed her once. If these people are coming for her now it's because they think I'm still dead. She's safe here with me. I won't let anything happen to her again, I already walked out on her when I should've stayed."

He could see Clint trying to process the information. She kneeling was a lot to take in. He moved to sit on the end of her bed and glanced up at her.

"That's the thing you were doing that you couldn't tell me about? The one you asked me to trust you on?" Clearly he was trying to piece it all together.

She nodded.

"And she's... She's like you? At least kinda?"

Again, Natasha nodded.

"I think I got it." He didn't.

She could tell he didn't. She appreciated him trying though.

"I have to protect her, I'm not asking for your help here but I have to take care of her." Nat studied him.

Clint offered her a small smile and shrugged.

"You don't have to ask. I'm gonna help you."

Of course he was. Clint had a good heart. 

"Come meet her, she's a good kid, she'd just alone and scared just like I was." A long time ago but she had been once.

Clint agreed, just as shed known he would. Clint couldn't turn his back on anyone - or anything - that needed help, it was how he'd gotten his dog after all. Clint had a damn good heart. 

They walked back into the living room and Ava glanced at them both over the back of the couch, she rose a brow and studied Clint Barton properly.

"So, is this the boyfriend? He just walked in and you didn't shoot him so I'm gonna go with boyfriend." Ava watched Natasha now to gauge her reaction.

It was just as amusing as she'd thought it was going to be. Natasha narrowed her eyes at the teenager but noted immediately that Clint was looking at her, too. She glared at him.

"Clint is a _friend _and I trust him." Friend was an understatement.

Friend was a massive understatement ut at this point there wasn't much else Natasha was willing to admit to being, she glanced at Clint who's expression made her wish she could outright punch him and the smirk on Ava's features told her she didn't believe her either. Natasha sighed and rolled her eyes at both of them.

Ava shrugged.

"Uh huh, well not-boyfriend I'm Ava, hi." She leaned over the back of the sofa to offer her hand.

Clint walked forward to shake it.

"I'm uh, Clint Barton."

"Codename Hawkeye. I know who you are, I read the news." The teenager smirked.

He could see the similarities between Ava and Natasha in their attitudes immediately.

"Its nice to meet you, I think." Needless to say the teenage girl had Clint baffled.

Ava almost felt sorry for him. From the look on her face, so did Natasha. Clints eyes flicked between the two and sighed. This was weird. So so damn weird. He found himself frowning at the pair of them and shaking his head. This was _not _what he'd expected when he'd decided to come on over here tonight, but what could he do? He'd sort of thrown himself into this situation and now he had to make the best of it.

Not that he was sure what 'make the best of it' meant in this instance.

"I should uh..." Clint pointed with his thumb to the door over his shoulder.

Immediately the redheaded teenager erupted into a fit of laughter and she shook her head.

"Oh no you don't. This is way too much fun. Sit down, hotshot. Stay, eat, drink. Be merry."

Natasha glared at Ava but that didn't deter the laughter one bit. 

"So not sorry, you asked for it _Sestra_." 

Was it too late to change her mind and just haul her ass back to SHIELD?

Natasha sighed. This was going to be way more complicated than she'd anticipated it would, of course it was.

When was anything ever simple in their world? Her life these days seemed to be the epitome of complicated. She glanced at Clint who was somewhere between downright confuse and somewhat amused by the whole situation.

"C'mon, sit down. She doesn't bite she's just a pain in the ass." This was not how she'd envisioned this going.

She should have known tonight wouldn't be easy, pretty much the only thing that she was thankful for was the fact that she didn't have to lie to Clint anymore and for that, she'd kept her promise to him. Granted, it wasn't in the way she'd intended to but then they did say everything happened for a reason, right?


	9. We may win or we may lose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares and movies equal bonding times that a small group of outcasts didn't even realise they needed.

Ava woke up screaming, full blown screaming and thrashing around at about 4am; Natasha - naturally - had responded by grabbing her gun and bolting to make sure that there was no immediate danger but Clint knew those kinds of screams better than he liked to admit: The kid was having a nightmare and a hell of a bad one by the sounds of it. 

That was how he could tell that while Natasha had nightmares of her own and plenty of nights like this to claim as her own, she wasn't used to dealing with it with anyone else while he was. He couldn't count the nights that he'd gotten her through nights like this or the nights where he'd gotten Bobbi through them or even the nights that one of them had gotten _him _through them. Each one of them was haunted.

He hadn't been so quick to rush in with a gun though; he knew it would do no good and so he'd meandered into the kitchen first to pour her a glass of water before he walked in, glancing at Natasha as he put his hand on the barrel of her gun and lowered it.

"It's okay, Tasha. She's just having a nightmare." He made his way toward the evidently panicked teenager.

He offered her a smile as he held out the glass of water. She took it with shaky hands; she was still struggling to breathe steadily. He could understand that. Clint placed a hand on her shoulder.

"It's okay, I know that right now you're probably scared as hell but I promise you you're safe. Me and Tasha? We won't let anything happen to you."

He'd promised Natasha the same thing over the years: He wouldn't let anyone hurt her. She'd been through enough and he'd be damned if he was going to sit around and watch her go through more without doing any damn thing in his power to stop it happening. This girl had never had a single soul fight for her but Clint Barton - being the man that he was - would make sure that she sure as hell did now. From one displaced kid to another, she shouldn't have to feel alone.

No one should have to feel unwanted like that. No one should have to feel like no one cared like that. Natasha - he noticed - was smiling. It was one of those sort of fond expressions that he hadn't seen her make in quite a while. He found himself rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"Why don't I go make us all some hot cocoa? I don't think I'm gonna get back to sleep anyway." He knew by now that Ava wouldn't and distractions were good.

Natasha seemed to find her own calm after hearing Clint speak because she walked over to sit on the end of the bed, studying the young girl as she reached over to put the gun on the nightstand. She switched on the lamp. Worried green eyes scanned Ava's face to make sure that she was okay though by the shaky way she was holding the glass, she didn't suppose okay was even close to how the teenager felt right now.

"Hot cocoa is good." Ava murmured softly through shaky breath.

It had been years since she'd had any, back when she'd first been brought into SHIELD she supposed; it was back before she'd gotten lost in a system of a place that struggled through one battle after another and had come close to falling more than once. There wasn't much in it that was the same as it was when she'd first gotten there and though she hated the place for the fact that she'd been treat like some little outsider that just didn't matter, she could understand why a wayward child was hardly at the top of their list of priorities.

She was sort of used to being treat like that anyway.

She had to bite back a sob; Clint and Natasha exchanged a look, both of them understanding that it had shaken the poor kid more than she wanted to admit.

"You want to talk about it?" Natasha questioned softly. 

Ava just shook her head. Clint gave both of them a small nod and walked out toward the kitchen again. In truth, he just wanted to give both of them some space; he knew that Natasha was still trying to wrap her head around being responsible for someone else's life and Ava? Well, she seemed to believe no one actually genuinely gave a damn about her and that was one thing that both he and Natasha knew all too well. Both of them had been discarded children with nothing in their lives but whatever use they had to someone at the time.

Hell, he'd left home because of his abusive father. He knew all too well that when someone touched you, it wasn't always because they were being kind about it. He knew what it was like to flinch every time someone did. Ava did exactly the same and it was horrible to see. 

"He's right you know, no one's gonna hurt you ever again. We won't let that happen." Natasha had a softness to her voice that Ava hadn't heard before.

It was quite curious if she was going to be honest.

"I know that this is horrible. I know that this? All of this? It's scary as hell and none of us know what we're facing but you aren't alone anymore. Archer boy out there? He's actually a damn good ally and when he says he cares? He means it. There's not a damn thing on this planet that's more reliable than Clint Barton having your back."

Ava rose from the bed and she offered Natasha an uncertain smile.

"Thanks, Natasha."

After a few minutes, both Ava and Natasha made their way into the living room and the tired archer poured two cups and made his way over to hand one to each of them before he went to retrieve his own. He was glad that Kate was staying at his place tonight; he felt horrible about leaving Lucky on his own even for a few hours. Natasha turned on the TV after a few moments of silence and all three of them fell into watching some random ass documentary on Sea creatures. One that in truth he found pretty damn interesting.

Nature was pretty cool.

"Y'know, of all the things you could've chosen this is awesome." Clint piped up as he looked at Ava.

She shrugged her shoulders gently.

"I like nature. It's beautiful. It reminds me that life isn't all crappy and ugly."

That made sense. If they were going to spend the night watching absolutely anything, he was glad it was going to be something at least that brought her some kind of calm, after all the kid had been through she sure as hell deserved it. She curled up on the end of Natasha's couch under a thick, fluffy blanket and Natasha - to his surprise - curled into his side.

Yep, there were worse ways to spend a night than this.

And it was that hellish night turned into quiet bonding that had Clint quite set in the fact that his initial decision had been right: the kid wasn't so bad.

Mini-Natasha was actually quite funny and Clint decided he quite liked her; she reminded him of Kate back when he first met her. She was overly talkative, didn't have a filter to save her life and she literally said anything that popped into her head. He respected that, she didn't hold back and she didn't lie. She was open and honest just like Kate was even if someone didn't like the truth.

The fact that she'd dubbed him Not-Boyfriend though was strange. He'd decided on Mini-Natasha simply to get his own back on her which was something that actual Natasha rolled her eyes at. Clint was always better with kids than Natasha was and while at first he hadn't understood why she hadn't told him about Ava, he was glad that she hadn't lied to him when he'd asked her questions last night and there had been a whole lot of those.

He was quite surprised that Natasha hadn't lost her temper because he'd quite literally peppered her with every goddamn thing he could think of.

She still didn't tell him what she'd been doing for the last 7 months though. She just kept saying it was something she wasn't ready to talk about just yet and he had to respect that. Frustrating, definitely but what could he do? He couldn't make her talk about it and he knew that if he kept pushing her she'd shut down completely. He knew by now that he was lucky to have gotten the answers that he had out of her.

Ava's story had been one that had made Clint honestly feel protective which was something that he hadn't banked on; it was something that Natasha hadn't counted on either because she'd seemed rather confused about it until he'd explained that she reminded him far too much of Kate and Kate had already been through more than enough in her life, too.

Ava had been through hell and she was only 15. No one deserved to have to endure what she or Natasha had and when the girl had woke up screaming from nightmares, both Clint and Natasha had decided to stay awake with her simply because neither of them could do much else to comfort her. 

Both of them were right: He couldn't possibly comprehend what either of them had been through, but both of them appreciated how much he tried to be there anyway. Both of them appreciated the fact that though Clint Barton could not possibly comprehend what he was up against when he vowed never to let either of them fight this battle alone, both of them knew that he'd give it his all anyway.

"So! What's the plan for today anyway?" The sleepy archer spoke, rubbing his eyes as he studied both of them.

Breakfast was good. He needed more coffee.

"I'm guessing a nap is out of the question?" Ava looked at Natasha then.

The redhead rose a brow and shrugged.

"After shopping maybe." 

Ava rolled her eyes so hard you could practically hear it. Clint couldn't help but laugh at her and he reached over to pat her shoulder offering her a sympathetic look.

"If I'm being dragged shopping I vote he has to come, too."

"Nope, I'm a guy and about the only shopping I do is when I tear one of my shirts and I have no other option, even then I mostly get Bobs to do it for me." Clint was horrible with that sort of thing.

Bobbi had often reminded him that if it weren't for her and Natasha he'd probably be screwed.

Natasha was the one to roll her eyes this time.

"He's right. He sucks at it. Barton literally doesn't even know his way around a store unless it's to the junk food or beer aisle." She shot Clint a teasing smile.

He grinned though. She wasn't wrong.

"Or dog food!" He argued.

"That too." 

"Ohh, I forgot you said you had a dog! I love dogs. I demand snuggles with the puppy." Ava piped up, studying Clint with a grin.

"He's not a puppy..." Natasha replied.

Clint shot her a glare though.

"Yes he is. He's just a puppy with some grey fur is all."

Natasha rolled her eyes smiling playfully at Clint, messing his hair with her hand.

"Sure thing, hotshot. Whatever you say."

Ava tilted her head softly to the side as she watched the two of them and for a moment - just one - she wondered whether this would be what it was like to have a normal family of some kind or another before she inhaled a sharp breath and shook her head. She was _not _going to let herself go down that road. She cleared her throat and tried her best to hide the pain she was feeling.

"So, shopping?" She questioned quietly.

Natasha glanced toward her then, noting that there was something clearly going on with the girl that she either wasn't ready to talk about or just couldn't bring herself to and so, she just offered her a small smile; she'd either talk when she was ready to talk or she'd just pretend whatever it was didn't hurt until she exploded from the pain of it. Natasha personally hoped for the former. She knew that the latter was nothing but destructive. She'd done it herself enough times.

"Bring the puppy over later?" Ava glanced hopefully toward Clint.

Clint smiled at her and nodded his head. 

"If it's good with Tasha?" Both sets of eyes fell on the redhead.

She let out a small chuckle before nodding her head. Yep, it was going to be a dull and boring day but in truth? Natasha had a theory that it was exactly what the two of them needed. Or three. Not that she had any idea at all what Clint was going to do for the day.

"Alright, well I'm gonna head out and leave you two girls to it. See you later?" Clint headed toward the door.

Natasha glanced at Ava who rose a brow.

"Go, say goodbye. I'm gonna go shower."

She rolled her eyes at the retreating teenager before she made her way toward the door, Clint turned to look at her with a nervous laugh.

"Heh, this isn't necessary Tasha. It's cool. I'll see you later." And there he was rubbing the back of his neck again.

She found it adorable.

"Shut up, idiot." She teased softly as she leaned up to place a kiss on his lips.

"I'll see you later."

And with that, she pushed him out of the door gently and closed it behind her. Natasha sighed.

Yep, she was in way over her head.


	10. Feels like I'm walking the wire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time since she's been back, Natasha comes face to face with Bucky Barnes. their complicated feelings for one another are an obstacle she knows the two of them will have to overcome if they're going to work together because after all, he won't let her face the world alone.
> 
> Again.

Rogers had called her into SHIELD again.

She had tried to tell him of course that she was far too busy trying to fix the mess that they'd made with Ava but he'd insisted that she needed to come in.

Needless to say she did so reluctantly.

She'd left Clint babysitting which he didn't actually seem to mind; Ava had calmed down a whole hell of a lot since he'd brought the dog over, Liho wasn't too thrilled about it but then she was grumpy and used to being the only animal there.

In all of the time she'd had her, she hadn't had her around a dog.

Arriving at SHIELD, Natasha made her way to the command room where - instead of Steve - she came face to face with James Barnes.

He - like Clint - had thought for sure she was dead for the last seven months and so, he looked less than pleased when she walked into the room more or less unscathed. He studied her with fierce blue eyes that she could have sworn were going to burn a hole right through her and she rose a brow at him and frowned.

"You've done exactly what I did before so before you give me a lecture? Think about how much of a hypocrite you're being." Natasha never held back.

He knew her well enough by now - some would argue a little _too _well - to know that she wasn't the type to do so. She said exactly what was on her mind whether someone liked it or not and every single word she spoke was true. Wholly, completely true. He'd done what she had in the past and while she'd known after a matter of weeks - if that - that it was all a ruse, he'd still done it.

If he lectured her now he'd be a hypocrite and she'd make damn sure he knew it, too.

"Seven months, Natasha?" He frowned as he spoke.

"You had a beautiful funeral by the way, very moving. Lots of tears." He smirked then; he knew she'd have hated that.

He was right, she did. She rolled her eyes.

"I never wanted anyone to cry for me." That was obvious.

She hadn't even wanted anyone to really care.

Them caring put them in danger, he knew that better than anyone; it was one of the very many reasons the two of them had broken up so many times because neither one could stand the danger they put the other in and ultimately it became too much for either of them to be able to live with.

They'd decided they were far better as friends, sometimes friends with benefits and sometimes just teammates. They were the epitome of complicated relationship and both of them knew it.

He pushed away from the table he'd been leaning against and made his way over to her. He studied her from head to foot, tilting his head as his eyes fell on a fading bruise on the bottom of her jaw. 

Automatically she reached and grabbed his wrist because she knew him well enough to know he'd reach up and brush across it before asking her what had happened. With narrowed eyes the redheaded spy shook her head.

"Don't." She warned.

He smirked again and shook his head. He studied her with an almost amused look.

"What? Worried your boyfriend will get jealous?" 

She tightened her grip on his wrist, twisting it and connecting her foot with the side of his knee, he dropped immediately to the floor.

"You're really gonna push me, James?"

She had his arm pressed against his back and a tight jaw; if he could see her he'd see that she looked pissed off as hell. Her knee pressed between his shoulder blades and he did nothing but laugh. She pulled back and turned away from him, shaking her head.

"Didn't realise the two of you had broken up already, my bad."

He stood up, she hadn't applied enough pressure for what she'd done to make an impact but then she didn't want to.

She could have and they both knew it.

He didn't get the chance to say much else before she tossed a pair of scissors at him, he dodged with ease.

"Don't screw with me, asshole. Me and Clint are none of your damn business." She didn't sound even slightly amused.

Undeniably though - and much to her annoyance - he definitely was. He could be such an intolerable son of a bitch when he wanted to be.

"No, you're right it isn't, who you spend your _down time_ with is none of my business anymore, it's been what, a year since?"

"Something like that. How'd you know about-- you know stalking is illegal and creepy, right?" She folded her arms across her chest.

She watched the way he regarded her and while she could see the concern in his eyes, a part of her while glad for it wondered what right he even had to be concerned about her after everything but then she realised it was exactly that: After everything they'd been through he'd _always _have the right to be concerned about her. They'd been through so much together. They'd endured, fought, almost died time and time again over the years... He had a goddamn right to be worried about her and he always would. 

Friends or otherwise, James Barnes would _always _have a reason to be worried about her and she would about him. The two of them would never stop caring, hell at this point she wasn't even sure they were capable of not caring but in her own way she was glad for that; he could be a damn good friend and a good person to have on her side.

"I'm not stalking you, I saw the CCTV footage." He sounded so dismissive.

She frowned at him and shook her head. She was still pissed at Clint for that; he knew how she felt about public _anything _so an argument out in the open? Yeah, that wasn't something she particularly enjoyed but she couldn't exactly yell at him too much for it. She'd faked her death, broke his heart and made him think that he'd failed his best friend. She kind of deserved it, she might not like it but she was aware that she did deserve it.

"Barton is a hell of a lot less skilled at keeping his emotions in check." She conceded with a sigh. 

James already knew that though, he shook his head and laughed.

"Oh, come on. You saw the way he was with Morse, did you really expect any different?"

Okay, he had a point. 

"It was all very romantic though, very sweet." He reached for a cup of coffee.

She rose a brow and let out a laugh before she made her way over to stand in front of him. She made damn sure he was looking at her.

"You're jealous." It wasn't a question. She stated it with certainty.

"You're actually jealous." She sounded amused; he rolled his eyes.

She knew that look all too well though. She knew him better than he'd ever wanted and she knew that bothered him; they'd been through too much together though and fought together more times than either could count. Their entwined history would - in some way or another - always tie them together no matter how much each of them hated it in their own way. 

"What does it matter? We're not repeating past mistakes, remember?" That was indeed what she'd said to him.

She shrugged.

"We're not." That had happened way too many times.

It always, always ended painfully. The two of them cared about one another, loved one another even but it never worked out. One of them would shut the other out and ultimately it'd be the return of secrets and lies and fights that would be explosive at best. It wasn't a good idea for either one of them as painful as it was for both of them to admit that.

"What you did out there was stupid, Natasha." 

"It was necessary." She corrected.

"No, it was stupid; you knew too well what danger you were gonna be in. It was stupid and reckless and you put your ass on the line with no backup. What would've happened if you'd failed?"

"I couldn't think about failing, James."

"You never could and that's your problem. You always have this _One woman army _thing going on and it's put you in danger more times than I can count. You're strong, I get it. You can handle yourself but you're not invincible." She'd heard his speech dozens of times.

Dozens. She knew how much he wished it would actually have an impact on her. She knew how much he wished she'd listen to him but this was Natasha; she was so sure she could do everything alone that she vowed she didn't need absolutely anyone. He knew how wrong she could be.

So did she.

"You could've told me what you were doing, Nat." He sighed then.

She shook her head vehemently in disagreement.

"No, I couldn't because you'd have done exactly what he would and come after me; I didn't need either one of you getting hurt trying to play hero in _my _fight. You know how I feel about that, if I wanted your help - either of you - I'd have called." but she hadn't. 

She hadn't asked for any of their help because she didn't want it. She didn't want any of them getting themselves into any danger for her sake, not when she'd been so sure she could handle it herself and she'd been right, barely but she'd been right. She wasn't going to tell them it had only been by a scrape but she'd come out of it alive. 

Only to nearly die on some stupid SHIELD mission she'd undertaken on her way home. Go figure.

"I'm no hero, Natasha. You know that better than anyone."

"You always tried to be mine, James." She spoke softly.

She held his gaze and offered him a weak, small smile. He reached out to brush a tendril of her hair out of her face; he looked almost sad and she hated it. She'd always hate seeing the pain in his eyes. 

"You always came after me no matter what it might mean for you and I couldn't have you doing that this time." 

He knew she was right but he didn't have to like it, he would have gone after her and he'd have done all he could to help her and make sure that she came home safe again because he didn't want anything to happen to her; he wasn't going to admit it to her but thinking she was dead had been crippling. He wanted to be angry but he couldn't. He knew a spies best defense was making sure no one thought about being able to save you.

It kept the people you loved alive.

"I get that you did what you thought was right but, you should've had someone to have your back. What--" She'd already said she didn't want to think about what would happen if she failed.

That didn't mean it didn't play on his mind though. He released another sigh and dropped his eyes to his feet.

"Nothing happened."

His hand moved to her side and he brushed it gently.

"Right, that's nothing." A short, humorless laugh broke his lips.

She rolled her eyes straight away.

"That wasn't that. It was something else." She could see his point though.

Once again she'd gone into something with no extraction plan and no backup and she'd nearly died. She didn't want him to be right but then she never did, him being right meant that she knew she'd screwed up but he was right this time. She had been stupid, she could have died for real and no one would have been able to help her... If not for one goddamn lucky strike.

"Clint got to me in time."

She knew it wouldn't make him feel any better that he hadn't been the one to get her out of that, but she knew at least it'd comfort him to know that someone had been there to stop her dying for real this time.

"Barely." He replied quietly.

"We might not be _that _anymore but I still care about you and I'll be damned if I let you die for real this time so whatever mess you're in now? Whatever it is with you and the kid? I'm helping you. I don't care how much you goddamn argue, I'm helping you."

She sighed but nodded her head anyway; she'd agree because in truth she knew she needed it. There was a damn better chance of her being able to track these bastards down and stop them if she had someone that knew their operating procedures just as well as she did and could help her formulate a plan that wasn't going to get everyone killed because she knew by now that neither Clint nor Ava was going to sit this one out, either.

"Think you can work with Barton without causing a scene?" She studied him as she spoke.

He looked amused again.

"I'll be professional for your sake."

And that? She appreciated. She knew that he'd worked with Clint before and he knew how capable an asset he was out there in the field but she knew too that James thought he was an idiot, Clint Barton was a lot of things but he was far from being dumb. 

Snarky, sarcastic, occasionally reckless? Absolutely but he wasn't stupid. He was far from stupid.

"Alright sweetheart, what's the plan?"

"I don't know yet, but can you look into these rogue KGB? See if they're being sent by Karov or if we've got some other major player hiring Russian mercs these days? I've run a few faces through Interpol and I've asked Bobbi to look into locations for potential bases of operations but so far all I can get is a few are ex military and a few are moonlighting." 

She was trying to do exactly the same but she was also trying to keep Ava out of it, too. The kid was goddamn stubborn but she was raw; she needed more training if she was going to do this and survive.

"On it, but Nat? Stay alive this time, okay?"

"Okay." She replied gently.

He placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head before he moved away and walked toward the door, she kept her back to him though she could feel his eyes on her as he turned to look back.

There was no way she could get into that again.


	11. I can't be alone with myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's feelings post-meeting with Natasha x3 
> 
> I feel like this needs to be done tbh otherwise I'm not really paying justice to the impact that all of this has on everyone and everything that happens from hereon out, it would make no sense otherwise and it'd seem like just straight out forced story rather than assessing the emotional impact and lets face it there's going to be a lot of that; this and the next chapter need to be done the way they are so don't hate me xD.
> 
> This story btw is set post-Liu's 2010 Widow run and after Brubakers Winter Soldier run. Hence Natasha's messy brain and the struggle she's having with who she is which is why I think that Natasha and Bucky need to assess their emotions; Clint will too so bear with me.

_I might have put a bullet in my brain to quiet the ghosts if not for Natasha._

Seeing her again was hard and that was putting it lightly; he hadn't slept for the better part of a month after he'd found out she'd died. He'd put every ounce of energy he had into trying to find the bastards that took the shot and he knew, he knew all too well that there were more than enough people out there who could have over the years but there was nothing to find no matter how hard he looked.

There was no goddamn way in hell he was finding anything because she'd made sure of it.

He hadn't known why to begin with though looking back now, he knew he should have. Natasha was smart; she'd made it clear during their talk that she didn't want anyone coming after her but she didn't know that he'd already _tried _or at least he'd tried to avenge her in his own goddamn way.

He cared for few people in this world, truly cared for them but he cared for _her _more than she knew and more than he was willing to admit. They had endured so much and come through it together.

Together.

That wasn't going to be the case anymore, was it?

_You're a good man._

_Not really, no. But you're the only one who understands that._

She was the only one who understood a lot of things about him; he was no hero, he'd never been a hero and that was why he'd handed the mantle of Captain America back to Sam Wilson after his supposed death, she'd sat by his bed day after day, she'd told Nick Fury to do whatever it took to save his life. She had. She'd fought for him. It seemed like a million years ago now; she'd been the one that had given him the strength he'd been missing all those years ago and just like that, she was gone.

_They _were gone. They'd been torn apart and there was nothing he could do to stop it, he'd tried like hell but he hadn't been smart enough, he hadn't been quick enough. The impact of what had happened that night reverberated through every second of his life after that and it had torn a hole in him that had never healed. He'd thrown himself into trying to be a hero before that, into saving the world because it was something. It was something that'd make his friends and their belief in him worth it but they all knew deep down that wasn't who he was.

She understood that, too.

Saving the world wasn't something he was going to do, it was never going to be who he was and he'd tried and tried to get them all to understand that he wasn't a hero. He worked best in the shadows and he'd made that clear thousands of times.

He wasn't ever going to be a hero; he was a killer and that was what he knew how to be better than anything else and she understood that.

She saw the darkness inside of him and she loved him all the same; it was almost ironic that the one person that knew him better than anyone else was the one person he couldn't talk to now. He couldn't pull her back into what they were before or complicate her life with his feelings for her, he'd promised himself that he wouldn't do that.

He'd tried his damn best to say Goodbye when he'd believed that she had died because there was nothing he could do, dead was dead and not even he could change that just like he'd said Goodbye when she had no goddamn idea how she felt for him anymore because she'd had her memories wiped and their relationship taken away from her with them; he had no choice but to say goodbye to her.

It seemed like all he'd done for the past 2 years was say goodbye to her in some capacity or another and it was cruel. It was cruel and there was nothing he could do to fix any of it regardless of how much he wanted to change it or how much he wanted to fix it there were some situations that even he had to admit were beyond his control.

But you could goddamn bet he'd mourned her for every damn agonising second of it, once the anger had subsided and he'd realised that there was no one left he could kill, no one he could hunt down and make pay all he'd had left was the pain and he'd felt every goddamn ounce of it. Coming face to face with her and having to force composure? That hadn't been easy but he'd done it for her sake.

He knew that she needed it, she needed to know it was okay to move on.

She needed to know it was okay to let go. It wasn't about him, it was about her.

_Whatever else we are, let me be your friend._

He practically choked on the words. _Let me be your friend._ He knew he could do it, he knew he could if that was what she needed from him. He had to because it was better than the alternative; it was probably the one discernable thing he had in common with Clint Barton: Neither of them had learned to live without her. 

Seeing her and staying as composed as he had was something he'd struggled with; he could never have predicted that it would be _that _painful. All he'd wanted to do was pull her into his arms and tell her how goddamn much he'd hated thinking he'd failed her.

All he'd wanted to do was tell her he was sorry, tell her that he'd tried so hard to find justice for her when he'd believed someone had hurt her and tell her that losing her was worse than death because he'd just gotten her back.

When she'd been wiped and she forgot all about him it had been the kind of pain that tore you clean in two. She'd slowly - very slowly - gotten her memories back or at least most of them and they'd found their way back to one another only to lose each other again.

It was cold, cruel and painful and he couldn't stand it if he was going to be honest with himself. He'd lost her too many times already, all he wanted was the love of his life and that was the most impossible thing in the world, he wanted to tell her, he really did.

He knew he couldn't do that to her though and so James Barnes fought for composure while he joked about her loving someone else, she'd been absolutely right of course: he was jealous.

He was jealous because he loved her. He'd always love her.

He threw the coffee cup into the wall, the sound barely registered to him; his hands moved to his head and he shook it fiercely. He was frustrated, hurt, angry, regretful and wishing the hell that he'd never made that damn agreement with her because he knew he couldn't stick to it.

"You still love her." He heard the voice.

He turned to look at Steve, the look on his face almost mirrored the words he spoke.

"Really? You think?" He sounded angry.

Somewhere between angry and downright agonized anyway. He hadn't banked on how hard it would be. Steve inhaled a deep breath and walked over, placing his hand on Bucky's shoulder. Steve knew damn well this wasn't something he'd be able to relate to, he'd never had what Bucky did with Natasha.

"I don't know how to watch her love someone else. I've watched him love her for years but--" he couldn't even finish the sentence.

"Its different to watching her love him, too." Steve finished for him.

Bucky nodded. He knew it had never been a secret that Barton was in love with Natasha, it was well known by everyone but no one talked about it because before it had been clear that she loved James. There was no sense talking about it.

Now, it seemed that was no longer the case.

"I don't know if I can do it, Steve. I love her, I'll never stop. I can't." His jaw set tightly.

He never was good at talking like this, not openly and never really by choice. Steve seemed sympathetic and not judgmental which was of course helpful. He'd been reluctant enough to talk about it, hiding it though it didn't appear to be working.

Not that he'd tried hard, mind.

"You need to tell her, Buck. Natasha is messed up right now and her head still isn't entirely her own. You know what she went through. You know the aftermath and you know right now she isn't completely whole better than anyone." Steve spoke gently.

Bucky shook his head in vehement disagreement. He couldn't do that to her. He'd promised himself that he'd keep to their agreement and let her move on with her life. He owed her that much after all they'd been through.

"I can't do that. I won't drag her back into this, she needs to move on with her life and that has to be okay."

Steve rode a brow and shook his head at him.

"So, you're just going to lie to her and force yourself to hide it all? You know how she feels about being lied to. You know how she feels more than anyone else in the world about being screwed with; she's been through hell already, lying to her isn't the right play here. She's finding her way back to who she was slowly but she's taking stupid risks, even you have to see that. She's throwing herself into all of this because I don't think she knows what else to do with herself." Steve replied honestly.

Bucky sighed and shook his head, his blue eyes flicked back to Steve. He knew that he was right; He'd seen that look in her eyes before. She was running and she was trying her damn best to stay ahead of her own thoughts but it wasn't working. He could see it wasn't working and there was nothing he could do for her, what had happened to her was his fault and there was no changing that. 

Novokov was his fault.

"Right because you're the shining example of telling the whole truth these days." Unfair? Absolutely but he was in so much goddamn pain.

"I've lied, I'll hold my hands up to that but I don't think hiding _this_ will help either of you." In fact he thought it'd cause more damage in the long run.

It'd end up coming out somehow or another he was sure of it and when it did it'd tear an even bigger hole in someone who was trying their best to heal already. Steve released a sigh and shook his head.

"Listen Buck, I know there's no way I can relate to what you're dealing with but I know you and I know Natasha. I know the two of you have been through hell together and I know you've both almost lost one another too many times for you to sit back and let her think you don't love her. You've lost each other enough already."

Did Steve want Clint to get hurt? Absolutely not. Clint too had been through more than enough over the years, he'd been a damn good friend and a damn good teammate over the years and Steve had been there through a good most of both his ordeals and his work within - and outside of - The Avengers but he knew Natasha deserved the truth, whatever she did with that was up to her but she deserved to know. 

At least then she could make a conscious choice knowing the full truth.

"I won't do that to her, Steve. If she wants Barton?..." Bucky's jaw flexed.

It was clear to see that the thought angered him. He release an irate sigh and shook his head again.

"How the hell can I put her through this after everything she'd been through already?" It was a genuine question.

"You don't know what she wants. I don't even think _she _knows what she wants. She's left trying to rebuild from everything and you know as well as I do that it'll only end badly if there's more she doesn't know. Lying to her is worse." Steve squeezed his best friends shoulder.

"She has been through enough, she doesn't deserve to be lied to, too."

Bucky knew he had a point.

He knew Steve was right but He goddamn hated it. He had no idea how he could face her and tell her the truth but now he wasn't sure how he could keep lying her either.

What a goddamn mess.

"So what, I tell her and risk tearing her apart again or I lie to her and I let her--" He frowned at Steve as Steve shook his head.

"You let her build a new life on another lie? Tell me how that's fair. She had everything she was wiped away, she killed a _friend _when she killed Jasper and almost killed Nick and she's spent two years trying to figure out where she is now in all of that while trying to live with what she's done. She has most of her memories back but not everything. Not yet. You know that fight, you're the only one that does. Can you stand there and let her get it all back and struggle with that on her own? You know it'll come back. Every second of it will come back. It did for you."

Steve had seen how much Bucky had struggled and the rest of it he'd learned from Natasha when she'd been there through the rough nights and the days where he lashed out through all of the pain, she'd needed someone to talk to about all of it and she knew he cared about Bucky just as much as she did. She had over 60 years of history with him. She had just as much right to care about him as Steve did. 

"When she remembers everything and she feels alone then what happens? When that hits her like a goddamn train and she's knocked clean on her ass, what happens next? How do you know she won't do another stupid suicide mission just to deal with the pain?" Steve hated the possibility.

She'd barely survived this time. He was glad that they'd had a team close but if it hadn't been quick enough...

He hated to think of the alternative.

Natasha faking her death was one thing but bleeding out alone somewhere was another entirely. He'd been dead set against the whole thing but she didn't listen to anyone; she'd been so sure it was what she needed to do but Steve had theorized all along that she just didn't know how to deal with whatever it was she was going through; she wouldn't open up. He'd tried like hell to get her to open up but she just wouldn't.

It wasn't him she wanted to talk to and he knew it. It wasn't him who could help her. Natasha was good at running. She was good at fighting but she wasn't good at battles she couldn't win. 

"I tried to tell her not to do it that goddamn mission, I tried to tell her to let someone - anyone - help her if she was going to do it but she wouldn't. I could see it in her eyes, something in there had snapped and all she could focus on was trying to control the one thing she felt like she could control. She knew that killing whoever the hell it was that tried to take her out was her way of coping. She's spinning, you see that just as well as I do. She took it all on herself and look at the end result: She nearly died. She was sloppy and she missed an obvious trap. That isn't Natasha. That isn't who she is. She's better than that."

Bucky knew every goddamn word Steve spoke was right; he'd trained her. She knew better. She knew to keep her guard up and she knew that stealth was her best friend and yet she'd fallen so easily into something that had nearly resulted in her death. She wasn't sloppy. She was the most capable person he'd ever met.

She made it all look easy and graceful, she made each move in a calculated, careful way but there was nothing careful about what had happened. It was poor planning. It was stupid and clumsy; even with bad intel she'd have taken more care than that. That wasn't Natasha, Natasha knew better. Bucky frowned.

She was going to wind up getting herself killed. Bucky balled his hands into fists and slammed his metal one into the table. 

"How the hell do I do this without hurting her?"

"_Not _doing it is hurting her more." Steve wholly believed Bucky was a fool if he thought otherwise.

"It might not go your way but at least she'll know that she isn't fighting through all of it for nothing. If she goes out there looking for a fight again next time she might not win. She scraped surviving this, Buck. She barely did, she was unconscious for a week because the damage was that extensive SHIELD docs had to medically sedate her to keep her alive, even with her enhancements she didn't bounce back from this quickly. She's facing another fight, she's trying to save the kid and I don't want her to die in the process because she's too distracted by her own mind to focus on the mission."

Steve paused as he studied his best friend. He offered him a sympathetic look. He felt terrible for dumping all of this on him and making him face it but it was better than the alternative, next time that coffin might not be empty and there'd be nothing anyone could do. It was better for all of them if whatever the hell needed to happen actually happened. Natasha was taking stupid risks.

She was spinning out of control. She was losing herself.

"I don't want her to die, Steve." Bucky spoke weakly.

There was nothing worse than that. If Steve was right and he lied to her, if he was right and he kept it from her and let her battle through her distorted memories on her own thinking that it didn't matter whether she figured it out or not, she was going to keep running. She was going to keep taking stupid risks. She was going to keep being distracted out there and he knew it. If she was facing people from her past? She'd need the focus. She'd need a clear head because death was the kindest outcome for her if she messed up.

He knew she'd rather die than have her head messed with again; she'd lost enough already. He knew that if they took away who she was, she might not come back next time. She did this time but it had been a brutal, painful process for her and one that had been literally months of flashes, nightmares, uncertainties, outbursts and what he could only describe as depressive phases, the exact same thing that he'd endured when it had happened to him.

"You're right, she should've handed that easily even with being fresh off another mission. She hasn't been that sloppy since the '50's. She was like a rookie out there again. The only time I've ever seen her that sloppy was when she first went after Alexi. He got under her skin and she couldn't focus properly." Bucky conceded.

"But we don't know it's her memories that're making her like that." Naturally, he argued.

"We don't know it isn't either." Steve countered.

Bucky rolled his eyes.

"You know as well as I do for it to throw her off guard that much it has to be something major." Steve shook his head at his best friend as he spoke.

It was true, she wouldn't falter for just anything. She wasn't that kind of person; she was strong, stronger than anyone he'd ever met. She was not only capable but deadly. She knew how to handle herself and she _never _made it easy for someone to take her down. He knew that she should've had her guard up more than before after what happened with Leo. 

"I guess I'd better talk to her." 

"If you don't I'll throw the two of you together again until you work it the hell out." Steve threatened.

He looked deadly serious. He knew he'd done it too, he'd tricked Natasha once into coming in and thrown the two of them into a room together he had no doubt he'd do it again. Bucky managed a nervous laugh as he studied Steve.

"I mean it, no matter how hard it gets you have to tell her everything. If that's what's making her act so reckless out there? You could save her life."

Steve knew that what he was saying was the truth. He'd seen Natasha falter before but only once. Only once and she hadn't been herself then. 

"Yeah yeah, I get it _dad." _Bucky shot back with a small smile.

This wasn't going to be fun. It'd tear him apart and he knew that it'd hurt her too, but Steve was right. If her memories were what was messing her up out there it could quite literally be the difference between life and death. If he could help her figure out her head _before _she took on rogue Agents and half of the Russian secret underworld? That'd save her goddamn life.


	12. I can remember being nothing but fearless and young

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha is struggling. Badly. She knows that when she's faced with everything she's been running from she's going to want to run all over again. There's nothing worse than a battle against your own mind when you try to reassemble who you are again after someone takes a hammer to you and smashes everything you held to into little pieces.
> 
> She needs to heal her fractured mind, and she needs to understand that feeling the way she does is okay before trying to bury that makes her stupid.
> 
> But can you really love two people at once?
> 
> (Look up Silhouette by Aquilo bc I feel like it really describes them in all of this. Don't shoot me lmao! I mentioned I need to assess her emotional impact and I can't very well do that if she buries her feelings. This story is about her dealing with how people feel about her and how she deals with herself while trying to keep herself and someone else alive. Bear with me there's a point to this and a direction.)

Natasha hadn't gone back to her apartment, she couldn't face it yet. She'd gone for a walk to clear her head; she had more going on in her head than she cared to think about right now but she had no choice but to think about it. It was exactly why she hadn't wanted to see him, she knew that it would complicate everything and so she was pissed as hell at Steve for setting her up.

Steve knew better than most what she felt for Bucky.

She released a slow sigh, shaking her head as she eventually came to a stop outside of her building but she stopped. She stopped and she couldn't bring herself to go inside and so, she turned on her heel and walked off. She felt her phone vibrating in her pocket and she pulled it out, Clint's name flashed up on her screen and she rejected the call immediately, then the next and the one after that. Right now, she couldn't bring herself to talk to him.

Not just yet.

In truth she was about as torn as she could get, she had no idea where she was going right now but she knew she couldn't go home just yet. She couldn't stand to go home and face Clint like everything was okay when it wasn't. What they'd been through was too much to continue with any kind of relationship, her and James. She knew that. She knew that they had to be friends and only friends but that didn't make seeing him any easier.

That didn't make the fact that they hadn't really _talked _any easier. She knew that there needed to be a serious conversation, she knew she had to sit down and talk to him and get him to really, truly open up to her but that? That was a battle that she wasn't sure she could handle right now. She was too volatile and so was he; they were like fire and ice. They were something else, they'd always, always be something else and that was exactly the problem.

That was exactly why she couldn't sit in a room with Clint and act like everything was okay.

Despite the fact that she knew they'd always be something else it didn't matter, that something else couldn't impact this. It couldn't impact _now _and she knew it, so did he. She could see it in his eyes, he knew it too. She hadn't banked on his pain though, she hadn't banked on him feeling the torment she knew he was feeling; he was right it had been just over a year, she'd expected him to heal. How foolish of her.

Hell she wasn't even sure _she'd _healed from it but she was damn well trying; her memories were still coming back, she was still trying to reassemble her mind again and it just wasn't an easy process. It was painful, many a night she didn't sleep at all and others she screamed all night long. She felt like if there was ever a hell, she was close to being there herself yet again. 

Natasha found herself outside of his apartment before she really realised what she was doing and she stood there frozen to the spot; she flashed through it all in her mind and she wished the hell that she'd truly gotten over it all. How could she, though? How could she get over something that had impacted her whole life? It just wasn't possible and she knew it.

She'd forgotten for a time, forgotten who he was, forgotten how she felt for him but the more she saw him the more it came back to her in images and flashes and painful moments that haunted dreams she wished she didn't have to this day but what could she do? There was no changing it. 

Being reprogrammed had been hell on her and he knew it. She'd nearly killed him and he'd pulled her back but it wasn't without its battles but it was all fake; it had been but the surface of what had happened to her and the aftermath was her killing her friend, the aftermath was her nearly killing Nick, the aftermath was Clint and Bucky and Matt and Steve and Logan all getting sucked into a fight to save her life and they'd still lost. _She'd _still lost because she'd lost her memories and there was no magic fix for that.

She was stupid to think that that would have no lasting impact on either of them because it impacted every damn thing she'd done since then and it impacted everything she was doing _now _because she was in so much pain, so much more pain that she'd ever thought was possible. She couldn't help but wonder if this was what it had been like for him when he'd come out of it and he was starting to remember who he was and who they'd been to one another.

It didn't matter how long she was gone or how much she tried to run away from it she was haunted by the pain of it. Echoes of who they were still remained in the back of her mind until they'd become voices so loud it was deafening and it had all started to come back.

It didn't matter how much distance she put between the two of them. She cared. She cared way too much and it ate away at her; her mind was still out of control, it was still a series of ups and downs; it was a rollercoaster ride of agony that she really wished she could get the hell off of.

Raising her hand, she tapped gently against his door and flicked her eyes up to meet his as he opened the door.

"We need to talk."

Four words she knew _everyone _on the planet dreaded because it seldom ended well, but she was right and they did. They needed to talk. He knew that she was, too. He pushed open the door and stepped aside to let her in, she stepped inside and glanced back at him as he closed the door behind them. She leaned against the back of his couch and released a sigh.

"Does anyone know you're here?" An obvious question and he knew it. 

No one knew, she wouldn't have told anyone because Natasha guarded her secrets well. She kept everything close to her chest because she knew that it was a vulnerability she couldn't afford. Natasha didn't do vulnerability unless she absolutely had to and he brought out her vulnerable side better than anyone else. He knew her better than anyone else.

"No." She replied anyway.

"I should've just gone home." She conceded, shaking her head.

"But you didn't. Why?" He theorized he knew the answer but he wanted her to say it anyway.

He needed to hear her say it.

"I had to talk to you. I had to-- You blew it all off and acted like you didn't care but we both know that's bullshit. I know you better than that, James. You-- You know what, nevermind." She sighed.

He could see that she was frustrated and his brow furrowed as he assessed her gently. 

She was stepping around the whole situation and trying to avoid it. She was fighting like hell, he could see it in her eyes; she didn't want to lose what little control she had over the situation she found herself in now.

"I can't and you know I can't." She warned gently.

She regained at least a little of her composure because she inhaled a deep breath and shook her head.

"Steve set me up." She stated flatly.

"You were going to have to talk to me eventually, Nat. It didn't seem like you were going to do that anytime soon on your own."

"_Eventually_ being the key word." She retorted immediately.

He sighed and walked over, standing in front of her and he tilted his head and studied her. She looked troubled, bothered by far more than he wanted her to be; it wasn't fair on her. He never did like to see her struggling with anything. He moved his hand to her chin and tilted her head up to look at him. 

"You were avoiding me, if it was really over for you facing me wouldn't have been an issue. You'd have just told me to get the hell over what you did and moved on." He spoke so softly that it threw her off guard.

"It's not about that." She was deflecting. 

She always did that better than almost anyone.

"I've known you since the '50's, Natasha Romanova. You can't lie to me. Tell me what's going on."

His hand slipped from her chin to her cheek, hers slipped to his wrist and she closed it around it. She wanted to throw his hand away, she really, really wanted to throw his hand away but she was frozen to the spot.

"I can't do this and you know I can't."

"Barton." James spoke the name with a flex of his jaw muscles.

They were tense, just like the rest of him and she'd noted that almost immediately. She wasn't much better if she was going to be honest with herself. She was tense, nervous, worried... 

And she felt like she was betraying Clint simply by even being here.

"I shouldn't even be here, it isn't fair on him."

"So why are you?"

"I just had to--"

"Had to what, Natasha?"

Her heart was racing. She closed her eyes.

"I had to talk to you..." It was more than that.

They both knew it was more than that.

"I'm leaving. I shouldn't be here." She pushed past him and moved toward the door.

He caught her wrist and turned her back to face him.

"I still love you but you already know that. You're trying like hell to deny it, I can see it in your eyes. I know you well enough to know when you're running and you're running." He wasn't going to tell her.

Steve had told him though that he had to. He had to tell her because it wasn't fair to lie to her but looking at her now maybe - just maybe - it would have been better for her if he did. She was messed up, confused and she'd been through hell itself and he knew that from firsthand experience but Steve was right: Being honest with her might just save her life.

He knew what it was like to have a price on your head, both of them knew what it was to fight battles that could only be done in the shadows but she'd faced two ordeals and she hadn't been able to ask anyone that cared about her for help.

She really could've died out there and no one would have known a damn thing. That? That tore his heart out. He released a sigh and shook his head. She had to know he knew that she'd been stupid out there, she had to know that he'd seen enough of the footage to know she'd made far too many rookie mistakes for someone as well trained and experienced as she was; she'd tried to pass it off as fatigue but she didn't think anyone was buying it.

Apparently neither Steve nor Bucky were or Steve wouldn't have shown him the footage to begin with. She couldn't bring herself to look at him so he guessed he was right.

"I'm sorry, Natasha." Her eyes hadn't left the floor, not even as he spoke and that forced a sigh from his lips.

"You know how I feel about you, James. Clint deserves better from both of us. I can't keep doing this." How much of a cliche was that?

She could almost laugh at it and she would, she would if it didn't hurt her so goddamn much. The whole 'Love Triangle' thing had been something she'd faced now for over a decade but she'd managed to keep it at bay. She'd managed to make sure that it wasn't a factor and now it was. He was supposed to move on. _She _was supposed to move on. 

"I won't hurt him like that again." Clint had endured enough at her hand.

"This? Us? This can't be a factor here. We can't, never again. We agreed."

"And I wish I hadn't. You're putting someone else before your own feelings or you're using them as an excuse for not facing them and I'm not sure what's worse. You're not a coward, Natasha. You know you can't run forever and you know this isn't going to go away. It doesn't matter how much you use loverboy as an excuse for it, it won't go away. It won't stop hurting you and it won't stop you doing whatever stupid thing you feel like you need to to make it stop hurting." He replied with a shake of his head.

"Steve told me I had to tell you. He told me that I couldn't keep it from you. I wish that he was wrong and that this was one of those things that both of us could just ignore but you know we can't. How many times have we almost lost each other? How many times has one of us almost watched the other die? You nearly killed me right after you told SHIELD to do whatever they could to save me. You helped me fake my death so we could fight together to stop a goddamn World War in the shadows and my slipup cost you everything. We've fought together and almost died together more times than I can count, Nat. I've almost lost you a thousand times, I thought I'd lost you forever when your memories were gone but you came back. Little by little you came back and then I get told you were shot and you were killed." This time he looked away.

"I thought you were dead and this time I thought it was for real."

She wished the hell that what he was saying had absolutely no impact whatsoever on her but it did. It tore her apart in more ways than she wanted it to. She wanted to be so sure that it was all done. She'd fought like hell for it to be all done. Faking her death, avoiding him for seven months, letting him feel like she really was gone just like she had with Clint. Clint had found out the hard way she wasn't. 

"How did you even find out I wasn't..."

"Dead?" He replied with a raised brow.

"I heard the SOS from SHIELD when you got hurt but I wasn't close enough."

She flicked her eyes up to meet his then. 

"They used my name?" She questioned but he shook his head.

"No, but I knew. I'd had a feeling you were alive for a little while. Coded messages are easy when you're as well trained as we are, you learn to pick up on the things people _don't _say. There wouldn't have been that kind of urgency for just anyone." He kept her gaze, trying to read her eyes.

She was just as much of a closed book as she was even to him. His knuckles gently brushed her cheek.

"Go home, Natasha. That's what you want me to say to you, isn't it? Go home. Go home and pretend this never happened."

"James, don't. Don't do that. Don't act like you can just play this off like it's nothing. This is me you're talking to, you decided Steve was right and decided not to lie to me for a reason so, what was it? You could've kept it to yourself and we both know that, you didn't have to listen to Steve." It wouldn't be the first time he'd hidden something from her she probably should know.

She was certain that there'd be other times, too. They were spies, one of the things they did best was lie. Lie and lie well. 

They were trained for it, conditioned for it and taught it like it was second nature. It was as natural as breathing for both of them so there was no way in hell he could stand there and act like lying wasn't an option. The Winter Soldier, The Black Widow... They knew just who the other was. Each of them saw the good and bad in the other and it was impossible to stand here now and pretend like each one didn't know who the other was all too well.

"I can't win here, Natasha. I can't beat out your feelings for Captain dumbass and we both know it. He's basically the adorable little puppy dog that'll give you a pure and sweet love whereas me? I'm the big bad wolf. I'm the one that basically handed you to that bastard so he could do what he did to you. I blame myself every day for all of it."

"No, you're not. You aren't some monster that I'm trying to run away from. That isn't why I did what I did. That isn't why I said we had to end it. I did what I did because you needed to be free and so did I. If we're forced to be afraid to lose the other day in and day out? It'll kill both of us."

"You think I'll ever stop being afraid of losing you? You can't be _that_ stupid."

She recoiled a little then; he could see his words had struck a nerve with her. She had no doubt that he'd never stop being afraid of losing her for good just as she'd never stop being afraid she'd lose him and that was the problem; it made them reckless and it made them throw themselves into the fire time and again. They were targets, they'd _always _be targets.

Someone was trying to kill Ava and she had no doubt her name was on that list, too. She couldn't have this be like every other time. She couldn't drag him into whatever the hell waited in those shadows.

She'd let him help her, but she wouldn't let him come with her to finish it. She wouldn't drag him back into hell too, she could barely live with herself now she didn't need to hate herself like that, too. It had been about two years since he'd faced _anything _to do with the monsters that they'd been running from since both had gained their freedom.

About two years since he'd almost died on her and she'd almost killed him. About two years since she'd been wiped clean and forced to forget how she felt about him and everything that They were to one another.

To this day, she wasn't sure how the hell she'd even survived it and she knew she wouldn't have if he and her friends hadn't fought so hard to bring her home again. He'd saved her more times than she could count; he knew how she felt about having her brain played with because he felt exactly the same. They weren't toys and yet they'd been treat like they were their whole lives by someone in some way or another.

But never by each other.

"When I found out you'd forgotten who we were to each other and how much you love me I'd have welcomed death, I'd have _preferred _death you losing you like that. You forgot you loved me but I didn't forget I loved you for even a second." The agony in his voice was unbearable.

She flicked green eyes up to meet his.

"And you chose to walk away." She sounded as broken as he was.

None of them were used to being so weak.

"Because it was the better option than staying around putting pressure on you to remember something that may have been gone for good. I didn't want you to feel that kind of pressure, it wasn't fair on you but it didn't stop me wanting to stay or wanting to do whatever it took to help you remember so I left because I was afraid I'd do more harm to you if I stayed. I've told you that already."

She knew he had, they'd already talked through that.

"When you started getting your memories back and you couldn't sleep because of all the nightmares I dropped everything and stayed there night after night with you talking you through everything, filling in the blanks for you and making sure you knew you weren't going crazy and that you knew you were safe, you needed me after the choice I made screwed you up and I was there. Now the rest of it is messing you up again and you're being stupid. You're acting like some untrained rookie out there in the field taking risks you know you're not supposed to take and being too stubborn to ask for help. It's gonna kill you, Nat. I can't let that happen."

It had been hard on her. Harder than she'd admit to this day.

"I know." She replied with a soft sigh.

That threw him a little bit, everything with her was usually such a battle; he hadn't expected her to admit it so easily.

"When I remembered everything I felt for you it messed me up and you know that. It killed me that we'd lost each other again. I hated that something else tore us apart and that it could've been permanent this time. I hated that he messed with my head and took you away. I hate that I remember some of it little by little and some of it like a wave that hits me so hard it knocks me off my feet. I hate that the pain of it all makes me wanna run more than I ever have before. I thought if I could throw myself into some mission or another it'd make the screaming stop for a little while." But it hadn't. She had wanted the screaming to stop in her head but it just wouldn't quiet.

That was why she'd tried her best to throw herself into _anything _that stopped the pain even if it was just for a moment and she felt terrible for it; she knew that she didn't need to be with anyone, not right now. She needed to figure out what was going on in her head before she decided to be with anyone but she'd been so intent in trying to forget about the pain that she'd probably done more harm than she'd intended to cause. She really did care for Clint, she loved him and she knew that he deserved better than she was ever going to be able to give him.

Especially right now. Right now, all it would do was mess her up more and in turn mess him up more and they both deserved better than that. Clint, Bucky... They were opposite ends of the spectrum entirely but each of them had a piece of her and right now, she wasn't sure which piece of her fit where.

"If you want me to apologise for loving you, I can't do that. If you want me to apologise for hating the fact that someone else even has a place in your heart I can't do that either way but what I can do is tell you _not _to do this. I can ask you not to run. I can ask you to turn to me and let me help you through all of this because this isn't you and him. This is you and me. This thing that's tearing you apart is you and me. If you don't deal with this, you're gonna get yourself killed and I'll die trying to stop that happening, you know I will."

She knew firsthand that he'd die before he'd watch her die. She knew that he'd give up everything he had in him if it meant sparing her from going through more; he loved her too much to see her go through more, especially if the _more _in question was because of anything he'd done. He blamed himself for what happened to her and she knew he'd never stop.

"I lose you every day. Every day I wake up and you're not here I lose you. Every time I look at you and I see you turn away, I lose you. I lost you when you chose to run off alone and let me think you were dead, I lost you when Novokov took away your memories, I lost you when you thought I'd died again, I've lost you a thousand times but the one thing that I've never lost is how much I love you. That part won't ever go away. I'll die before I let someone take that away. I won't let you fight alone, not with this, not with trying to save the girl. You? You need to work through this before it finishes you because you will slip up again if you don't and you know it."

He was pleading with her now; he took her hands in his and his eyes held hers. She fought to look away but he shook his head. She needed to hear him out whether she wanted to or not, she needed to figure out what she was feeling before she ended up distracted by it all over again.

"Have the headaches subsided yet?" He asked her gently.

She shook her head. They hadn't, not for months now. Each of them seemed impossibly worse than the last and she hated it. She hated now little she could do about them; it felt like her head was being split open, like something was hammering away at her skull from the inside and she couldn't shake it or get it out. She hated it. 

"Why didn't you come to me?" She knew she could. He knew she did.

He'd told her often enough that she could go to him, he'd told her that he'd help her work through all of this because it had been _His _fault that all of this had happened to her. He knew all too well that Natasha could handle herself but not like that. Not when someone had played with her mind. Not when someone had taken away who she'd become and made her think her friends were enemies. Not when someone had taken away the one thing in the world that she held to. She knew the pain of it and so did he, it wasn't going to go away. 

"I didn't think I could handle what'd happen if I did." She could barely speak. Her words were barely audible.

"I told you I needed it to be over with us because I was too afraid to go through it all again. If there was still something in there that'd be triggered if I remembered again, it'd be more than I could stand. I decided to throw myself into my missions, to focus on putting someone that deserved to die down because it beat the hell out of fighting myself. I needed one fight I could win."

He was the only one that got to see this side to her; he was the only one that truly, really got her to open up. He knew her, he knew her better than she knew herself. He'd seen it all with her, past and present and he'd seen her change and grow and become so much more than some deadly little weapon sent in with nothing but orders in her head and a target. He'd watched her build a life. He'd watched her rise and fall and falter, he'd watched her become stronger, fall into weaknesses and fight ghosts that she'd thought were long since gone.

He'd watched her heart break, he'd watched her friends label her a traitor, he'd watched her be hunted and beaten and tortured and she'd come out of that strong because that was who she was and none of it had shaken her like this had. Nothing aside from _Rose _anyway.

She didn't deserve to go through all of it. Any of it if he was going to be honest. 

"I've always had your back, Natasha. I've never questioned you, I've never questioned who you were because I knew. I knew who you were, I'll always know. I'll always see you for the good and the bad in you and I'll be here. I'll be here even if its just as your friend because he's not the only one that doesn't know how to live without you. I've loved you for over 60 years. You can trust me. You know me. You know I'd never willingly let you fall down. I still believe in you, always have even when you didn't believe in yourself." One hand moved to her stomach.

He traced the scar there over her shirt and he sighed.

"Do you remember what I said to you that day in the train station? I asked you to let me come with you because you knew no one else was gonna have your back and that didn't shake you even a little bit, I knew you didn't need me. I know you've never needed me. It wasn't about you needing me it was about me needing to keep you safe. It was about me needing to protect you because _you _are the most important thing in the world to me. I know you've never needed a single damn person to fight in your corner _for _you let alone rescue you but you did this time. You did this time and you have to realise how much that scared me. I took over from Steve, I tried to play the hero so that I could do something to be worthy of you."

He looked down then.

"That might've been before all of this but it doesn't matter. I'd have had your back then and I'll have it now. Always. D'you really think I'd have tried to save a world that didn't have you in it? I'm no hero, Nat."

"You were always mine." A sad smile touched her lips.

"You were always my hero, James." Her free hand brushed his cheek.

She wanted so badly to fight through it all, she wanted all of the pieces settle in her mind; she wanted it all to fit back together again so she could make sense of who she was but it was chaos. It was like a hurricane that just kept making more and more of a mess of who she was. She was falling and falling fast; she could feel herself spinning out of control and even she knew she was being stupid.

Even she knew she was taking more risks than she should but it beat the hell out of feeling the pain she was feeling. It beat feeling _broken _because that wasn't who she was; he'd already said it: She was strong. Stronger than anyone understood. Stronger than anyone gave her credit for.

Anyone but him, anyway.

"Then let me save you now. You told me I didn't need to be your keeper and you were right. You don't need me, you never needed me but I need you so let me help you." He took a step forward.

His head leaned against hers.

"Don't go into this with your head like this." He inhaled before he blew out a sigh.

"What if I can't make sense of it all before I need to fight?" It wasn't just her life at risk.

"Ava needs me."

"She needs you alive." Bucky countered.

Natasha let out a small laugh; that wasn't entirely the truth and she knew it. Ava had handled herself for months on her own, but he was probably right too. She needed her alive because this wasn't a fight a teenage girl who didn't understand the monsters that hunted her could win alone.

"And _I _need you alive. I'll help you figure all of this out before we go into this I promise and if something happens before then? We'll handle that, too. I'll do my damn best to make it right so that I don't have to watch you miss something obvious and get hurt again. I'll do whatever you need me to do to help you make sense of yourself but you have to promise me you won't go out there half cocked and fight this before you're ready. We both know you aren't."

"I promise." She didn't want to. She really didn't want to.

Fighting was what she knew, fighting was what she was good at. She wasn't good at dealing with how she felt anymore because if she did that it meant that she had to confront all of the pain she'd been burying now for two years. She knew what he said was right: He lost her every day. It had taken her the better part of a year to get even half of it back and she'd walked away when she had because she couldn't half-love someone and half not remember them. It seemed so cruel.

"Nat..." He breathed, his nose bumped the end of hers.

"We can't." She whispered softly.

"Tell me you don't love me and I won't." One kiss.

Even if it was a kiss goodbye.

"I can't, you know I can't." She couldn't tell him she didn't love him.

And then he kissed her, and for just a moment the world around them both ceased to exist and nothing else in the world mattered.

"I wish you could stay." He whispered as he pulled back.

"Me too." And that? That was exactly the problem.

She knew though, deep down inside of her she knew she couldn't be with anyone.

Not now. Not when nothing in the world made sense to her but God, did she love him. She loved Clint, too but it wasn't _this. _Ha, once again the famous Black Widow was breaking hearts and destroying lives even when she didn't intend to. The next conversation she had to have would kill her just as much as this one had.

It was a series of Goodbye all over again; the world really was cruel.


	13. If your world falls apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ava and Natasha have a much needed heart to heart and come to an agreement that surprises Natasha.
> 
> [I meant to post this days ago but i forgot I had it finished lmfao!]

She hadn't gone home until the next morning; she'd gotten Carol out of bed at 2am to let her in so she could stay there instead, Carol had of course spent the better part of an hour trying to get Natasha to tell her what the hell had happened that had gotten her so shaken and upset but she couldn't bring herself to say it, at least not then. She'd promised that she'd tell her everything because even Natasha knew she needed to talk to _someone _but she couldn't talk to Clint.

She'd called of course to check in on Ava, making up some story about how she'd lost track of time watching movies with Carol after she'd gone to SHIELD which she knew Carol would happily back, on the proviso of course that Natasha did tell her the truth at some point. It was the _at some point _that Natasha was counting on. She knew that before she went home, she had to compose herself at least a little bit.

She'd had no sleep, she looked like hell. Even a shower and a change of clothes didn't do a damn thing to change her appearance; she looked as drained as she felt and she hated it. Of all of the decisions she'd made in her lifetime? The ones she'd make over the next few weeks might just be the hardest.

When she'd decided all those years ago to do what she had, she never thought that the repercussions would reverberate all these years, she never thought that 60-some years later she'd be paying for it; she never thought back then that she'd have lived this long. The serum prolonged her life and that was something that no one could have really understood. It was 1956 when she first met him; she was nothing more back then than an agent. A spy. A weapon. He was, too. He was nothing more than she was, but she hadn't banked on caring.

Neither had he.

Two years, two years they managed to keep their relationship a secret, loving one another under the noses of their handlers though they knew the risks would be severe if they were caught and it was. Oh, it was. They brainwashed her, giving her false memories and placing him into cryostasis until he was needed for a mission and it was hell. Alexi... The relationship that she was supposed to have with him? That was hell.

She'd chosen this hell of hers though, hadn't she? She'd chosen it as an orphaned child that had nowhere else to go and so, she stayed there. She became their proficient little weapon because it was how she survived. She knew she stood no chance on her own; she wasn't a fool even back then. She was young, she was but a girl but even she knew she stood no chance in the harshness of Russia in the 1930's. It wasn't exactly a warm or forgiving place to a child on the streets.

Ivan had offered her an out. He'd offered her a way to save her life but she'd go on to hate him more than she ever thought it was possible to hate anyone, anyone except for Alexi anyway. Both of them could go to hell and stay there for all she cared, if there was ever a person that deserved hell it would be them. She knew she wasn't too far behind them though and in truth, neither was Bucky. 

His brainwashing was far more extensive than hers, she knew that. He would've been wiped clean but that didn't stop her caring. That didn't stop _her _loving him when he'd forgotten all about who they were and it was almost ironic that she'd face the same fate over 60 years later. They were bound, bound by decades of love that held them together no matter how much they tried to fight it and she wasn't sure how she felt about that.

She spent years after that looking for him, even after they programmed her to be something else entirely and sent her miles away it didn't matter; her feelings for him just wouldn't go away and that had been just the same when she'd been wiped all over again. She was programmed to forget. Programmed. It didn't make it real. It was just another layer of conditioning she had to break through.

Over a year, that was how long it had taken her to break through enough to know just honestly her soul had been ripped apart: 14 months and 17 days. It was the hardest - and in some ways easiest - 14 months she'd had in over 60 years. Torment was always worse when the lights of day were gone and sleep paralysed you from exhaustion and it pulled her into memories and nightmares that she couldn't escape from.

Then he was there. He stood on the balcony outside of her apartment one night when it had been particularly bad, the screaming just have been so loud because he looked terrified. For one moment he'd hesitated, that was all it had taken for him to weigh up the risks and step inside; she had a gun on him immediately but it didn't deter him.

A gun didn't scare him half as much as hearing her wake in that much pain had. He'd smiled at her, it had been so soft and gentle that she could feel a calmness that was so foreign it was almost terrifying wash over her and he made his way over, sitting beside her on the edge of her bed. 

He didn't say a word, not for a while; he sat with her, pulling her into his arms once he'd lowered the gun and put it down. Wordlessly, he'd let her scream it out until he could see she was too exhausted to scream anymore and then he spoke.

"I'm so sorry, Natasha."

He'd left because he didn't want anyone screwing with her head again. He didn't want anyone hurting her for his sake. He wanted her to be free of it and she knew that; he'd sat up with her all night, it didn't matter how much she lashed out, how much she screamed or shouted or how many times she took a swing for him he stayed. He didn't move. He let her get it all out of her system because she had every goddamn right to do it. She had every goddamn right to vent her feelings any way she could.

Flashing back to that now, Natasha sunk to the floor outside of her apartment and her hands covered her head and she let out a loud, blood curdling scream and swung her foot into the wall opposite her; she'd have to pay for the damage but she didn't care.

Three doors opened: Her elderly next door neighbor, the guy down the hallway that owned the pitbull Natasha walked when he worked all night and needed to sleep (at least she had before she'd gone off for 7 months) and her own. Ava stepped out and studied Natasha before she crouched down beside her; she offered her a small, sympathetic smile before she stood up again and held out her hand to help her up.

"C'mon, lets get you inside." Ava spoke gently, she sounded so much older than she was.

Natasha took her hand and let her pull her to her feet. She looked broken; it was something that Ava wasn't used to seeing. She'd only ever seen her strong. She'd only ever seen her the way she had for the last 2 days and then that week she'd spent with her when she'd been a child... She didn't know what had made her like this but she supposed whatever it was? It was bad. It must have been bad. She looked utterly exhausted as she stepped into her apartment; she was glad to see that no one was home besides Ava.

"He got called in to SHIELD." Ava spoke with a small shrug. 

Natasha was undoubtedly curious but glad for the fact that Clint wasn't there. She released a sigh as she fell down onto the couch and studied the younger girl. She offered her a smile as Ava pottered over and handed her a cup of coffee.

"You look like you need it." She shrugged. 

There was no hint whatsoever of the sassy, cocky teenager attitude that she'd had a few days ago. She was more like the concerned little sister now. It was strange for Natasha to see, but it was clear that Ava still needed some semblance of family; she was only 15 years old, she couldn't be expected to be perfectly okay with being out there in the world on her own with no one to look out for her.

No one to go home to. She hadn't been trained the way that Natasha had.

"Y'know rocking up here looking like _that _wasn't going to sell your movie night line, right?" Ava looked toward Natasha as she sat next to her.

"I know." She replied quietly, taking a sip of coffee.

"What happened, Natasha?" The teenager questioned softly.

Not that she expected Natasha to tell her anything close to the truth, she wasn't even sure why she asked and maybe that was why she shook her head and turned away to reach for the TV remote so that it'd kill the silence she was sure was coming right after Natasha fed her some line about it not mattering or telling her not to worry about it. She'd literally just grabbed it and picked it up when she heard Natasha sigh and she looked back at her.

"I have this ex, we have a complicated relationship and we ended it about a year ago, just a few months before I did that whole _fake death _stuff. We've been on and off for years, more off than on but the feelings never went away." As Natasha began the story, she flicked her eyes down to her lap.

"So, back in the mid 2000's we run into each other again, first time properly since the '50's with both of us wholly aware of who we were but back then his memories were still a mess, still coming back slowly and in little pieces." Just like hers were now.

"But we ended up back together... Until 2 years ago when a Russian Super Soldier woke up from a cryosleep and decided to make Bucky pay for what he'd done all those years ago when he'd trained him because he'd moved on with his life; he'd defected, he'd become a good guy and this son of a bitch just _had _to mess it all up so he kidnapped me and brainwashed me. I killed my friend, I almost killed Nick Fury and I lost the memories of our relationship." This was condensed, but at least it'd tell Ava what had her so damn shaken.

"But over the past 18 months they've started to come back. He and I tried to fix things but I was still angry at him for leaving me after I lost everything, I get why he did but it still hurt like hell. Six months after that I remembered just enough to walk into a room with him and feel my heart break because I started to know what I'd lost. The nightmares came after that, night after night I'd wake up screaming until one night he was there, too. He helped me through it as best he could but I just couldn't. He didn't want me losing who I was again and I didn't want to chance him leaving if I never got everything back."

"So you broke up with him?" Ava questioned softly.

Natasha nodded her head, she pulled her knees to her chest.

"And Clint? What--" Ava was clearly confused.

Natasha couldn't blame her.

"Clint was there for me, he helped to save me that day and he supported me after like he always did; he's had feelings for me since we started dating not long after we first met. It ended badly when he proposed to me and I left." Natasha sighed, rolling her eyes.

"So, let me get this straight: you've got this Bucky guy who you've had a thing with for years who you _clearly _still love and Clint who you dated, broke up with because he asked you to marry him and you apparently got spooked or whatever and then became besties with who's also in love with you, am I missing anything besides the fact that I have no idea how you were even _alive _in the '50's?"

"Nope, that pretty much sums it up except I didn't get spooked, someone threatened to kill him but yeah, I still left."

"And you spent the night with the ex?" Ava frowned.

Natasha scorned her with a single look and shook her head.

"Not like _that._ We talked about everything, I guess he wanted me to confront my feelings and all of the memories that I've been struggling with before it ended up getting me hurt; I made a lot of stupid mistakes out there when I went out and he told me that it was gonna get me killed if I didn't let myself work through it and he's right, so we talked. We talked and he tried to help me as best he could and then Carol picked me up at around 2am."

"It must've been some talk." The poor kid still sounded confused.

Slightly sarcastic, too. That provoked a soft smile on Natasha's features as she reached out her foot to tap Ava's knee gently in a playful scorn.

"So how _are _you all young and stuff if you lived in the 1950's too?"

"I was born in 1928." Natasha shrugged.

"Given a serum that uh, I guess the easy way to say it is it slows my aging down rapidly, helps me heal faster, makes me stronger, faster than normal people..." It was a complicated thing and she knew it.

"By who?"

"Ivan and the mad scientists that ran the Black Widow program I was a part of." She watched Ava physically react to Ivan's name.

For a time, Natasha had been the same after she'd gotten out of there, even the mention of his name threw her. That was how she knew when they eventually came face to face with him, Ava wasn't going to sell her out and rejoin the 'Home team' again. Ivan wanted her to, just like he wanted her back for all those years and probably still did in his own deluded way. 

"I guess he has the same thing..." Ava whispered.

Natasha gave a soft nod of her head and sighed.

"But that doesn't mean we can't die, Ava. People like me and him? We can die. Bucky - James - has the Super Soldier serum the same as Captain America. He's going to help us."

"He became Cap for a while, right? But he died about--" Two years ago. She looked at Natasha, clearly shocked as everything started to click into place for her.

"Oh God, you were-- He's the one you're in love with? The one you have all that history with? Steve Rogers' War Hero best friend turned international Assassin-slash-criminal? Holy crap, Natasha."

"Yeah, that would be about him. When he was supposed to have _died _was when he and I ran into the psychopath that did what he did to me. He needed the world to think he was dead so that we could stop something but we were in over our heads without really realising it. We were fish in a damn barrel and that son of a bitch had a bazooka."

She glanced at Ava then and shook her head; in truth she had no idea why she was telling her any of this. Ava was just a kid, she couldn't understand-- She frowned at herself. She knew that was unfair; Ava understood more than the average kid her age because she _wasn't _the average kid her age. She'd been through a lot of what Natasha had as a child but with Ava, it hadn't been a choice. She'd been an unfortunate victim of a mess she couldn't have controlled, put into that mess by a father that didn't understand who he was getting into bed with.

It had never been her fault. Natasha's either really if she thought about it; she'd been just a child that wanted to get out of the cold and didn't want to die in a gutter somewhere. She wanted someone to care about her and that had cost her more over the years than she wanted to admit to anyone most of all herself. 

"Why are you telling me this?" Ava questioned softly as she studied her, chewing her lip gently.

"I've never- I don't trust people. I rarely ever trust people but I need you to trust me so I have to trust you; tomorrow morning everything could change for both of us, hell even by the end of today everything could change for both of us. We have intel to go through, we have a mission neither one of us might survive so it's up to me to prove to you that you can trust me enough to try and save you out there and you aren't going to trust me if I lie." Natasha sighed.

This wasn't her game. This wasn't who she was, she had never been open, she had never found the part of her that was good with being open because ultimately all she ever got was hurt when she did but this? Ava needed to be able to trust her. Ava needed to know that Natasha was actually a person, too. A person that could bend and break and compromise and open up when it came time to do so even if she was only doing that to a lost teenage girl.

"What happens to me after all of this is over?" Ava withdrew into herself as she asked the question.

She was clearly terrified of the answer. The poor kid was terrified of being outcast and left all alone in the world again and that was something that Natasha could relate to. She wasn't whole either. Ava had a better chance than she did at it though.

"When all of this is over, you can stay here with me if that's what you want. If you want emancipation and to be completely reliant on yourself that's okay, too. Whatever you choose here? I'll have your back." Natasha owed her that much.

"You'd take responsibility for me? Not like before, right? You won't give me back to SHIELD?" Ava was terrified. So goddamn afraid of being left in the cold again.

Perhaps if Natasha had gotten out as a teenager or as a child she'd have been exactly the same; she might have felt just as outcasted and like she had no one to turn to. She'd had Ivan when she'd first gotten out and he'd betrayed her in the worst way possible and he'd put Ava through what he'd put Natasha through and she hated him. She hated him for putting that poor, sweet kid through it all, too.

"He hurt you like he hurt me, I should've stopped him years ago so what happened to you is just as much on me as it is on him but that isn't why I wanna take care of you, Ava. I wanna take care of you because I know exactly what it's like to have no one. You have no family just like me, so us two little Super outcasts should stick together. I can't be a mom, I'm not-- I'm no good at that. I wouldn't be good at that but I can be the big sister." Maybe. She had no idea for sure, but she knew she had no choice but to try. 

"I won't promise you some normal home with some normal family, I'll be in and out because that's my job and if you wanna train with me? I'm good with that, too. But what I will promise you is that you'll always be safe. Me, Clint, hell even Steve and James will take care of you." SHIELD owed Ava just as much as Natasha did, but she'd make damn sure she was never lost in another system again.

"Okay." Ava agreed softly.

"Yeah?" She'd expected a bit more resistance than this.

"Just don't try the mom-thing and we'll be just fine." Ava smirked.

"Oh don't worry, I won't." Natasha seemed relieved.

Ava didn't want another mother and Natasha could never offer her that.

"Good, because you might be good at giving orders but I'm _awful _at taking them."

"Yeah, that I can relate to."

The two of them were far more alike than she wanted to admit and that? That scared her. Natasha Romanov couldn't offer this kid a mother but she could offer her a promise that when this battle of theirs was over she'd have a home to go to and maybe that could be enough.


End file.
